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DIY soap - a project for survivalists

Lovers of British 'soapy' blends (and their more eclectic Lakeland relatives) are often rudely reminded of their own minority status. Venerable, but unprofitable names are being discontinued at an alarming rate, leaving smokers with uniquely flavoured pipes and nothing suitable to put in them. In Europe, observers warn that planned EU regulations could further reduce variety. One counter-option is to make your own!

Ever wondered which ingredients flavour your favourite soapy? Well, thanks to people in Brussels, you might know fairly soon. Or else you never will. The EU apparently wants tobacco producers to have all blends analysed for content, and to list the substances found on the tin. Reportedly, the cost of these laboratory tests could be prohibitive for some smaller blenders, which is why pessimists are predicting the death of less well-known varieties.

Even without government help, soapies are disappearing all the time - or getting knocked off importers' lists. Indeed, such monumental blends as St. Bruno are now hard to get in many parts of the world, and others - like Condor - are no more than a rumour to most smokers in continental Europe and the USA. Nonetheless, the relative success of the Lake District brands, Samuel Gawith and Gawith & Hoggarth, proves that there is still a niche for British-style aromatics. Smokers in Germany and the US order them by mail, nervously exploring minute differences between the current batch and previous deliveries. One European once told me that his life "would be a black pit" if RB Plug were ever taken off the market.

Time will tell which blends will be available ten years from now. But true survivalists are rarely content to trust fate. Wouldn't you like to know that your very own, personal soapy need never be discontinued? Better still, that the only changes ever implemented will be improvements? Then it's probably time to make your own. The project will devour your time, boost electricity bills, significantly increase the price of a smoke… and provide some rather fascinating insights. If you persevere, you could easily end up with your 'dream blend'.

I should hasten to add that I had virtually no idea about flavouring tobacco prior to my recent experiments. My project is based on little more than long experience as a smoker, plus the fruits of some research on the Internet and elsewhere. The methods I have unearthed and devised might be hopelessly amateurish, redundant, or even 'wrong' (whatever that means). Moreover, I cannot guarantee that the natural ingredients I use are safe to smoke, or pleasurable to all and sundry. So follow me at your own risk and on your own initiative - and please stop following me whenever you see fit. After all, there would be little point in going to the extra trouble and expense of flavouring your own weed, if the result were only someone else's idea of a perfect taste. The recipes given here are intended as an invitation to improvisation, and step-by-step imitation is something I would not even recommend to total novices. As soon as a component strikes you as undesirable, leave it out and find something else. Go with your own nose, not mine.

That said, I would urge you not to reject ingredients offhand, without even sniffing and pondering them. Even such seemingly dominant substances as liquorice essence and vanilla sugar will not do what you may fear, if used in small quantities. Remember that we're using them to create a new smell, not allowing them to impose themselves. I'll have more to say about this later on.

A problem of words

What exactly is a 'soapy'? We all seem to know when we taste one, yet struggle to find a viable definition. Personally, I mostly smoke natural Va/Pe or Latakia blends, but though I will never touch a Danish or (worse) Dutch aromatic, I like to savour two or three more lightly flavoured bowls a day. I consider the British 'soapy' style of topping akin to the skilled use of spice in the cuisine, whereas the goopy aromatics remind me of deserts smothered in tinned custard. The latter technique produces a somewhat generic and over-eager blend, whereas the former distinguishes a tobacco from others, as if a chef were to sign his meals. That, by the way, was one of the original reasons for scented blends - recognisability and its customer retention effect.

Many have suggested some ingredient or other as the common denominator of soapy blends, but producers seem to disagree with this. They say that certain flavourings are more widely used than others, but that none of these are imperative for a true-blue soapy. Rather, they advise, the general type of topping (floral, citrus fruit etc.) is reminiscent of the perfumes used in soap. They also point out that soapies are usually Virginia-heavy blends, as opposed to the Burleys favoured by makers of Danish aromatics. However, this is no rigid rule. Burleys are also used in some of the traditional British tobaccos, though very rarely in a predominant role.

Additionally, and possibly decisively, the intensity of the flavouring and the strength of the tobacco used play a major role. Almost all soapy blends boast a strong tobacco base, which has often been compressed at some stage or other. The aroma is usually applied sparingly enough to leave the tobacco's natural flavour intact, acting as a catalyst, rather than taking centre stage. During a smoke, it is detectable as a hint, not an overwhelming cloud - somewhat like the effect of soap. A few minutes after washing your hands, you can still sniff the soap's fragrance on your skin, but it is by no means as apparent as a true perfume would be, and quickly mingles with other smells your fingers contract (such as food).

Of course, the mildness of the topping is relative. Because the tobacco is often very strong, the amount or intensity of the flavouring actually applied may be quite substantial - which accounts for the harsh crossover effects you may get after smoking blends such as St. Bruno and Condor.

A few basics

Bearing all this in mind and searching for natural ingredients with which to create one's own flavourings, the garden, pharmacy, health food store and liquor shop offer just about everything you will need. But the most important concern is the tobacco we use as a base. Assuming that we are going to work with commercial blends, we want one that comes in a fairly natural state. It should be relatively high in Virginia content and not so unique as to be totally irreplaceable. Should it ever be discontinued, we want our own 'brand' to live on regardless.

Depending on the strength of the topping, that can mean many things. For example, Escudo (Dunhill Deluxe Navy Rolls) tastes like no other blend ever will - on it's own. But in an aromatised context, it loses some of its defining characteristics. Your author has mixed it with Latakia and flavoured it with chocolate and rum (not a true soapy, but the recipe is included in this article anyway). If it were to become unavailable, the list of possible replacements could range from Orlik's Golden Sliced to Rattray's Marlin Flake, even though the former contains no Perique. Yes, of course you would notice a big difference, but the basic character of the aromatised blend would survive. Here, a major variable is the relative 'weight' of a tobacco within the final product. With both Latakia and cocoa added in good measure, the Escudo is part of the choir, rather than a soloist. A lighter flavouring applied to an Escudo-only base would constitute a different state of affairs.

One very significant thing the author has discovered is the similarity between creating a flavouring liquid and cooking a fine sauce. As in the kitchen, do not expect every ingredient to make itself noticeable individually. Adding a little brandy to a simmering ragout 20 minutes before serving does not create a sauce that reeks of liquor. Instead, you have an 'enabler', a certain bite that helps bring out other flavours. Likewise, such seemingly dominant topping ingredients as liquorice essence and vanilla sugar don't smother other tastes when used in small quantities. Rather, they help build a unified body of flavours that ranges from dark to bright, sweet to acidic. Most substances we could add to our brew will work that way - they nudge the total result in a certain direction, rather than bully all other components to the sidelines.

The second most important discovery I have made is Vodka! With a volume of 40% alcohol, it is more than half water - and will extract both water-soluble and alcohol-soluble flavours from vegetable matter. It is therefore an excellent base, having no significant flavour or smell of its own. You can replace it with other spirits such as rum, if you are going for a particular liquor taste; but for neutrality, Vodka is almost unbeatable. That said, alcohol itself does have a distinct aroma, which might interfere with your perception during flavouring experiments. Remember that this odour will disappear when the alcohol evaporates.

Which brings us to another thing that will change greatly when the flavouring is actually put to the test. The mixture we're brewing in a bottle will smell very different once applied to the tobacco. Depending on the strength of your concoction, you will probably discover that the baccy itself provides at least half the fragrance of the finished product. So, if you're using the recipes given here as a starting point for your own experiments, it may be helpful to test your results on small quantities of weed, before ruining a pound or two. A hairdryer can be used to speed up these tests, should they prove too much for your patience.

Irish Soap

Finally coming to my first recipe, I'll first fill you in on its background. For over 20 years, I smoked Gold Block every day, until the original blend became unavailable anywhere in the world (according to my own experience, at least). I then replaced it with Dan Tobacco's Bulldog Golden Flake, a citric-type soapy I found rather delicious, but somewhat heavily flavoured. My new 'Irish Soap' sports elements of both blends, but is far more mildly aromatised than Bulldog's. It doesn't tend to grind me down the way more intensely flavoured blends do after a few days. It's spicier and more fruity than my old favourite, Gold Block, but just as comforting and familiar after only 100g or so.

To emulate the Gold Block taste a little, I add 6 drops of bitter almond aroma to 100ml Vodka (40% volume). Be warned that the almond aroma is a very strong ingredient and that quantity does matter. To get the right amount for your own purposes, you may want to add this substance last when conducting experiments.

Now for some floral and citric components: 2 teaspoonfuls of rose aroma (as used in sweets etc.), plus 1 of vanilla sugar, which supports the sweetness of the rose. Also add the outer peel of 1 lime and ½ orange, chopped fine. Then find some lemon aroma, preferably natural, and add the amount recommended for 1500g of cake dough. For spice, we turn to three small pinches of ginger and one of coriander, both dried. I also add one small, fresh mint leaf and 15 smallish lavender leaves from the garden, finely chopped.

For further sweetness: 1 teaspoonful of dried coconut, two tablespoonfuls of rum (40% volume) and 1 tablespoonful of liquorice essence. Finally, dissolve half a teaspoonful of honey in 20ml distilled water, and also add this to the Vodka solution.

I let this brew 'draw' for only 15 hours, having discovered that more time brings out more of the citric elements (too much for me, but something to experiment with, if you are so inclined). Then I strain it and store the brown liquid in a small bottle purchased from a pharmacy. The smell is rather reminiscent of after-shave lotion by now, though somewhat milder.

As a tobacco base, I've chosen Peterson's Irish Oak for its Va/Pe character, but also for its Burley component, which helps absorb and re-deliver the flavouring. I take 100g and scent the baccy with just 20ml of the brew. The flavouring can be applied in several ways, but to me, the simplest is to pour the liquid into a flat bowl, then add the weed and mix thoroughly, but briskly. The tobacco, which is sold fairly moist, will soon feel like wet (but not soaking) potting soil.

Marrying of flavours can be greatly enhanced by a little heat and pressure, so I stuff all 100g of tobacco into a 50g tin and wrap this with very generous quantities of sticky tape. I also secure the tin with a clamp, before putting it in the fan-assisted oven for eight hours at 60 degrees Centigrade (140 F.).

When the tin has cooled down again, I loosen the weed very thoroughly and air it in a bowl until it is dry enough to smoke, mixing and sifting from time to time. This can take several, even many hours, depending on atmospheric humidity. It probably makes sense to jar the tobacco just a hint too moist, and to transfer small quantities to a tin, where it can dry a little prior to smoking.

The result is a blend I can smoke copious amounts of. Some people have described it as "very typical" for a British-style tobacco, and I can see what they mean: though it is characterised by all the things I look for in a soapy, and there is none quite like it on the market, it aims for discretion, rather than eyebrow-raising individuality. So if you're looking for something truly different, move on…

Rum Chocolate

This one is not really a soapy at all, though it's akin to a well-known Lakeland blend. German carver Cornelius Mänz gave me some Bob's Choc to try, and I was truly impressed, while simultaneously a little disappointed. The idea struck me as fantastic, but the quantity of Latakia used seemed far too discreet - I had read that the inclusion of Latakia was this blend's claim to immortality, and was expecting more. Having reaped some encouraging comments on Irish Soap and therefore getting a little cocky, I decided to 'rectify' things.

First of all, I rubbed out 75 grams of Escudo and added 25 grams of Holly's Discovery, an extremely strong Latakia/Oriental flake produced by D.T.M. in Germany. Mix this with a sauce consisting of 50 ml rum (40% volume), two generous teaspoonfuls of real cocoa, ½ teaspoonful of vanilla sugar, 1 teaspoonful honey, 1 of liquorice essence and 1 of rose aroma. Also add 2 drops of bitter almond aroma.

This produces a fairly wet pile of tobacco, which should be left to dry slightly for a couple of hours. Then cram the lot into a 50g tin (I use the one that comes with the Holly's), seal and wrap with copious amounts of sticky tape. Put a clamp on the tin, and shove it in the fan-assisted oven for three hours at 60 degrees Centigrade (140 F.).

Once the tin is cool, loosen the moist tobacco and allow to dry in a shallow bowl, mixing and re-loosening the leaf frequently. It can take several hours for the moisture-level to reach smoking condition. When dry, you will detect a surprisingly mild scent of chocolate and rum, faintly sweetened and perfumed by the other ingredients. In combination with the Latakia, you have a smoke that is a 'manly' kind of dessert - a companion for red wine, spirits or coffee, rather than beer. It reminds me of Christmas, though I'll probably smoke it all year round.

(Martin Farrent)

(June 15, 2004)

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