Sunday, August 22, 2021

Of lathered lockdowns and a lathering state of mind

 




I am gazing at what looks like carelessly stacked up slaps of some exotic dessert. The wafting fragrance is woody and earthy – like a dish out of a tandoor. The feel is of those sticky chewy sour candies. I nibble (just couldn’t resist!) one: it’s sweetish, gummy, and runs off with a zingy after taste.

This concoction is from my kitchen. Only that it’s soap cake, not baked cake.

After a year and a half of hand acrobatics in foam umpteen times a day, my relationship with soaps progressed to creating it. Supermarket soaps were boring. I wanted a soap that would not just wash off the dreaded C stuff but the boredom of the hand-washing
ritual.

What you cannot find you…create. I just did that. 

In the process, I learnt that there is something called “real soap” and synthetic soap, and
something in-between (natural soaps).

Real soap is a product of the reaction between natural fats and lye resulting in glycerol (or glycerin) and fatty acid salts. This product is rich in glycerin, a humectant, which keeps moisture locked into your skin. The fatty acid salts are the soap part: not “soapy” enough to make big bubbles but more than enough to clean. The natural fats for soap-making are derived from milk, plant butter, and seed and vegetable oils.

Real soap has a neutral smell and will not last for years on the bathroom shelf. Additional glycerin, liquid salts, and natural sugar compounds are added to real soap for re-moulding. This is called a glycerin soap base. 

After months of lockdown hours reading up on soap-making, stirring and moulding in the kitchen, and experimenting on self and immediate family, I was ready with my samples. My soaps were fed and fatted with butter, oils, husks, grains, botanicals clays, and anything in the kitchen that looked delectable. And voila! Frothy desserts for the skin. 

Next, I made tiny gift hampers for friends – that were biked across the city (remember, it was lockdown) and for those rare non-curfew hours meetings. The loving, constructive feedback of some (my soap queens) sent me banging back into the kitchen to brew my potions.

Why is homemade soap, in general, so attractive? One, you know who made it, it’s got that personal touch. It’s not mechanically produced on a factory belt but on someone’s stove. Two, you can feel (if not taste) the home ingredients, and three no harmful chemicals are used in it. It’s not a product off the shelf but a creation of the kitchen. Use it and connect to nature and someone’s creativity. 

Now more friends and friends of friends ordering my natural bath bars. Since my “soap factory” is a one-woman-army steamed by passion not profit, the output is limited. So, please wait on the list while things like production, packaging, and shipping are sorted out.

Coming back to harmful chemicals, I’m not stating anything new when I say our soaps are laden with artificial preservatives and unsafe additives like parabens, sulfates, and whatnots to froth, clean, and last. (Deets on these devils are all over the Internet.) Commercial soaps clean us just like any cheap foaming agent, probably the same product used to degrease our car engines. Ouch.

Synthetic soaps are cheaper to make, so they are sold at lower prices. That’s why glycerine (or transparent) soaps cost more. The bubble consistently and frothy lather, long shelf life, lasting fragrance, and low pricing of commercial soaps come at the expense of chemical additives.  These chemicals are believed to strip the skin of its natural moisture leading to dryness, causing eye and lung irritation, interfering with hormonal functions, and producing cancer in laboratory animals.

But having shared these facts, I’d say take it with a pinch of fatty salts. These harmful effects could be related to the number of chemicals used or the duration of exposure. Besides, it’s not feasible to run around looking for natural or homemade soaps. Plus there’s the cost factor. But if you can afford the cost or know me (my stuff is modestly priced) then ditch the commercial stuff.

Time to reset your relationship with this ancient, humble lump of lard and salts called soap.