At the beginning of this month, I approached February's Soap Challenge with a touch of apprehension. As I delved into the email outlining the guidelines and watched the accompanying demonstration videos, it became clear that a significant amount of time would be dedicated to conceptualizing my design. The theme, "Winter Wonderland," mandated a soap featuring a snow element, primarily crafted from cold process soap, with the option to include small, non-soap embellishments. Participants could choose between two categories: all-natural or synthetic. My decision to enter the all-natural category was immediate and firm. My search for inspiration led me to eBay, where I discovered two silicone snowflake molds that initially appeared perfect. However, upon their arrival, I was taken aback by the considerable size disparity from what I had envisioned.

  The orange snowflake mold proved to be significantly larger than anticipated, while the pink mold was unexpectedly diminutive, roughly half the size I had expected. This considerable discrepancy left me contemplating how to proceed. My initial test of the tiny pink mold with melt and pour soap was far from satisfactory, intensifying my frustration. I dedicated several more days to unraveling this creative conundrum. I recognized that achieving sufficiently hard snowflakes from the tiny pink mold, capable of retaining their intricate shape after unmolding, would necessitate a soap formula exceptionally rich in solid fats. The idea of sea salt soaps, known for their rapid hardening properties, emerged as a potential solution. I was prepared to undertake this challenging endeavor, even if it meant crafting numerous mini-batches of sea salt soap using the frustratingly small mold. After meticulously resizing my original sea salt soap recipe, I commenced the work. To introduce visual variety beyond plain white sea salt, I sourced pink Himalayan sea salt and Hawaiian black lava sea salt. My first step involved a mini-batch, divided in half; one portion incorporated plain sea salt, and the other, pink sea salt, both cast in the "huge" orange snowflake mold.

These initial results were charming, yet as evidenced, my creative impulses led me further. My mind, it seems, has a knack for steering me into intricate situations. Indeed, I proceeded to hand-carve these snowflake soaps, initially using only a knife.  

As the soap hardened, I transitioned from a knife to a Dremel tool. This undertaking proved far more involved than anticipated, prompting me to question my ambitious trajectory.

The workspace became covered in sea salt soap powder and chunks. A few snowflakes inevitably broke during the process, resulting in a shortage. This stage alone consumed several days of work, exacerbated by my Dremel tool's tendency to overheat. The discrepancy between my initial vision and the reality of the crafting process was quite notable. With the larger snowflakes completed, my attention turned to the other mold.

I produced three batches of these remarkably tiny snowflakes: one with plain white sea salt and two with pink Himalayan salt. This process was incredibly demanding and, as observed, resulted in some breakages, necessitating further trimming with a knife. This experience truly exemplifies the "messes" I can find myself in when pursuing a creative vision.

For those following along, if my plan for this Winter Wonderland soap seems unclear, I invite you to envision a Hawaiian vacation, specifically a skiing excursion on Mauna Kea. Picture snow-capped peaks, volcanic lava rock, and, with a vivid imagination, those intricately detailed snowflakes. This was my guiding vision, and here is how it unfolded.

I maintained the sea salt soap recipe for the base, infusing it with a blend of ylang-ylang and sweet orange essential oils. Once the soap batter reached a thin trace, I incorporated the essential oils and divided the batch. The first half received Hawaiian black lava sea salt and activated charcoal, while the second half contained plain white sea salt and white kaolin clay. The acceleration of the soap batter was astonishingly rapid. Consequently, I swiftly poured the mixture into my silicone mold, followed by the hurried placement of the large snowflakes and then the tiny ones. Regrettably, the appearance of my soap was far from ideal. I apologize for the absence of photographs documenting this accelerated soap disaster, as my focus was entirely on managing the rapidly solidifying mixture. This process for February's Soap Challenge truly embodied a struggle.

Remarkably, I was able to cut and unmold the soaps just 15 minutes later, an astonishing feat given the rapid trace.

While I am not entirely satisfied with the final aesthetic outcome, the soap possesses a delightful fragrance. Here are the two most presentable bars from the entire batch. On Friday, I plan to capture additional photographs that will hopefully highlight more of the intended detail. Despite the challenges, I will demonstrate good sportsmanship and submit my "soap disaster" to the challenge, perhaps even for a "Second Great Cakes" recognition.

 This image represents my official entry for the February's Soap Challenge. Did I enjoy the process? A qualified yes. The act of making soap always brings me pleasure, but I had certainly hoped for a more refined result. This particular Mauna Kea themed challenge undeniably lived up to its name.