My mother, Susan, started tinkering with the strange chemistry of soapmaking in her basement in 1997. Once a home economics teacher, Susan is a natural with kitchen weights has a uniquely large reservoir of patience. The first few batches were born in old shoeboxes. She ultimately roped in my father, Pentti, a retired auto body repair man with a penchant for buying new tools. Soon, a small soap making factory was formed. Each batch of 88 bars is hand measured, poured and cut by my folks and wrapped by our expert soap wrapper, Fran. It’s sold here and at other nice stores around the world.