Bangor Daily News (Maine) (KRT) Via Thomson Dialog NewsEdge) Jun. 27--When you meet Kelly Mason, three things immediately strike you. First, she smells really good. At the bank, tellers comment that even her money has a fresh scent to it. Second, she has squeaky-clean, radiant skin. And third, she has great taste in shoes, especially for a farmer.

She's had a thing for footwear since she was a girl, but her fragrance -- and her flawless skin -- are the result of a newer passion: soap making.

On a recent morning at the farm she runs with her husband, Matt, Mason greeted a pair of ducks sunning in a kiddie pool on the porch. Inside, she nuzzled her dog, poured herself a cup of strong coffee, and placed a scale and a trio of plastic storage bins on her farmhouse table. When she opened the bin loaded with chunks of plain, white soap, the scent -- clean, with a bite at the finish -- filled the air.



"Soap is the successful combining of fats and lye," Mason, 36, explained. "People say, 'Oh, I don't want to use soap with lye,' but the bottom line is, you can't make soap without lye. It's not soap."

Mason's soaps, which she sells under the label Birdsong Botanicals, are a bit more luxurious than that simple combination. Studded with rose petals, scented with lavender or peppermint, molded in vintage tart tins -- her bars are a small indulgence.

Mason is one of a growing number of Maine artisans who have turned their soap-making hobby into a profitable toiletries business. A quick searc on the Maine Made Web site turns up dozens of local soap makers, and a visit to any crafts fair is bound to turn up at least a few bars. But this is hardly a quick or easy way to make a living, and it takes a while to get it right.

"The first batch I made was a ridiculous lump," Mason said. "It was soap, but it wasn't soapy."

Over the last eight years, she has honed her technique, and now, she's thrilled with the result.

"As I've done this over time, I really like my soap. I love the way it comes out," she said.

It's a process that has many phases, the first of which is fairly unsavory. It involves combining precise proportions of lye and water "very, very carefully," because fumes come up when she stirs. If anything goes wrong, she could end up with a situation similar to the baking soda and vinegar volcanoes of grade-school science classes.

"You have to wear goggles and gloves and long sleeves," Mason said.

Once the lye and water are fully combined, she sets mixture aside to let science do its work -- an exothermic reaction begins as soon as the water hits the lye. Once it cools -- in a deep sink filled with cold water -- she slowly pours it into a stockpot where a mixture of oils awaits.

Each soap maker has a preferred recipe, and Mason's is a castile soap. Castile soap is made with an olive oil base, which Mason chose for its moisturizing properties. She modified the traditional formula by adding coconut oil, which makes for a harder, sudsier bar of soap.

Many soaps on the market incorporate milk, tallow or lard, but Mason didn't want to deal with the rendering of animal fats.

"I just started using olive oil because it was most accessible to me," Mason said.

When the lye-water mixture meets the oil, the process of saponification begins. This involves constant stirring and a keen eye. Mason's on the lookout for "tracings," which are almost imperceptible signs that glycerin is forming.

"It's nebulous," Mason said. "It's different every time. It gets grainy, and it has a certain opalescence, or shimmer."

This step takes more than a half-hour of constant stirring, during which Mason sets up shop by the fire in the wintertime, talks on the phone, or sips tea. When the stirring is done, she has a pot full of liquid soap, which she pours into three large plastic containers that she uses as molds. She places the lids on and bundles them up in layers of towels so they cool slowly.

"It's kind of like swaddling a baby," Mason said.

With castile soap, the olive oil separates and floats to the top, so Mason has to stir it back in every 12 hours. After three or four days, the oils will stay mixed. After a week or so, depending on temperature and humidity, the soap will become solid enough to hold a fingerprint impression. Mason will then remove the lids from the containers, cut the soap into chunks and leave it to dry for a week or two.

On a recent visit to Mason's farm, these plain, white chunks of soap base were ready for the next step -- milling. Using a metal cheese grater, she shreds the soap by hand so it will melt more quickly. She once tried an electric grater, but it couldn't stand up to the task.

"This is kind of a drag, this grating thing," Mason said. "But hand-milling makes it last longer. The longer it cures, the longer it lasts."

Once she has the correct weight of soap shreds, she pours them into another stockpot and adds the corresponding weight in water. Then she places the whole shebang on the stove and lets the bottom layer melt before folding it in, because overstirring creates bubbles.

"This is when I know it's ready -- when it starts to look like mashed potatoes, that's when I go for it," she said, pulling the pot off the heat and pouring it into a stainless mixing bowl to cool.

Mason offers a total of eight scents, including an organic strawberry-oatmeal soap, a peppermint-kiwi soap, a patchouli soap colored with turmeric, and "Three Kings" -- a blend of sandalwood, frankincense and myrrh, which is naturally antibacterial. On this day, Mason was making a batch of complexion soap, so she stirred in a blend of French clay, lavender and rose petals. When it was fully blended, she began scooping the mixture, which had the consistency of banana bread batter, by hand into dozens of small tart tins and gelatin molds.

"You end up with soap all over you," Mason said, smiling. "You'd think you'd feel clean, but you feel soapy. Then you take a bath and it's like, 'wow.'"

When they use her soap, that's how her customers feel, too. Well, the "wow" part, anyway. Over time, she's attracted a loyal following of tourists, locals and summer residents at coastal farmers markets. Now, her customer base is "pretty much everybody."

"The thing about soap is, everyone uses it, right?"

Bar hopping

Here at the Bangor Daily News, we have a thing for soap. Here are a few of our favorites from Maine and beyond:

Pine, Balsam Fir and Cedar soaps from Annie's Handmade Soaps, Bar Harbor Soap & Candle Co., Route 3, Bar Harbor, 288-9913 or www.barharborsoapandcandle.com

Richly scented Sea Glass and Cucumber-Melon glycerin soaps from Ancient Oracle Soap Co., 14 Hidden Acres Drive, Surry, 667-9510 or www.ancientoraclesoap.com. Also available at Terra Cotta in Ellsworth.

The variety pack from Back Bay Farm Botanicals, 269 Back Bay Road, Milbridge, 546-2395, www.reallygreatskin.com

The black-licorice-scented Fisherman's Bait Bar from Garden By the Sea, St. Andrews, New Brunswick, (888) 788-SOAP, www.gardenbytheseasoap.com

Kristen Andresen