#trifles the amateur history enthusiast strikes again

[triflesandparsnips]

For those who may or may not remember my mostly historically accurate Stede Bonnet lip balm, get ready-- I'm going to start experimenting soon with mostly historically accurate lavender soap.

So... I guess be prepared for me to accidentally explode more shit, hooray.

[triflesandparsnips]

Guess who's doing alchemy in the studio again!

(ME, IT'S ME)

Time for

The Wash-Balls of Neroly

Version 3.1

So anyway, where were we?

Previously on "Trifles and Their Terrible Tribulations": The soap had jellied at an early stage, but adding almond meal led to miracles.

Following all that, I was going to be so careful with the next batch. Which is why, naturally, I started it soaking back on November 29th and... promptly didn't stir or even check on it until tonight, almost an entire month later.

Figure 1. Portrait of soap mix that has decided to show Mercy.

This is, in fact, a really good consistency to end up with! No jelly in sight, and it somehow is the right consistency to tip into the mortar for the next step: a shittload of scents.

Figure 2. Two "drops" of labdanum resin-oil, and thirty-eight drops of Neroli oil, because Simon Barbe did not fuck around.

These get folded in gently (though not with that terminology), and the mix is now back to a bit of a thick, soupy consistency.

Figure 3. That's some good soup.

The directions at this point say to beat "a long time to mix it well", and this has caused me Sadness in the past when even beating for a significant period of time did not yield anything like a stiff "paste" that could be rolled into balls, requiring that I find solace in salt as an additive to get the soap to calm tf down.

Almond meal was the version 3.0 revelation (due to it being a Secret Additive, related to the preparation of "dried" labdanum).

And tonight... I shall add almond flour.

WISH ME LUCK.

[triflesandparsnips]

Live from the workshop, trying another batch of soap of neroly, and GUESS WHAT FOLKS

WE GOT

GOO

[triflesandparsnips]

Still in the workshop because I'm doing ALL THE THINGS apparently, so time for

The Wash-Balls of Neroly

Version 3.0

Step 1: Fill wee pan with dried Nablus soap

Step 2: Glug glug the orange-blossom water yum

Step 3: Fill to top hooray!

Step 4: Put on a little hat and soak up, pretty bb

(but do not associate with the lavender washballs beside you, they are up to no good)

I shall come back and stir you daily, little soap goo, until you are ready for THE NEW VARIATION that maybe won't make me fucking salt you all to hell. Again.

Sleep tight, little fucko. *kiss kiss*

[triflesandparsnips]

The thing about trying to Frankenstein a fictional lavender soap out of bits and pieces of a bunch of historical recipes--

--recipes that were already missing several crucial steps (or iNGREDIENTS)--

--because the authors just assumed you already knew them, so why repeat themselves, everyone already knows ALL THAT--

The thing about this whole apothecary gig is... is that I actually am getting comfortable working with these ingredients and these processes and these scents and these tactile sensations under the curved press of my pestle, just like all the books say, the living skills of practice and experimentation and experience cut down to a simple shorthand, just "ex Arte," just "according to Art"...

which means I could FUCKING SENSE from the

SECOND

GODDAMN

P H O T O G R A P H

THAT THIS MOTHERFUCKER ISN'T GOING TO DRY PROPERLY

[triflesandparsnips]

....I think I

may have spoken too soon

about the latest soap experiment

[triflesandparsnips]

The poll choosing between ten historical recipe manuals I have open as tabs on my phone is complete, and we have a winner-- the 1659 classic:

An antidote against melancholy. Or, A treasury of 53. rare secrets & arts discovered, by an expert artist, Richard Amyas

...tbh, I fucking love Amyas-- his book is maybe three actual recipes and the rest are TOTAL FUCKERIES.

Like, I cannot stress this enough: OMFD's Edward Teach 1000% has a copy of Amyas's An Antidote Against Melancholy and, moreover, he's working on an unauthorized fan sequel that he wants to go lay on Amyas's grave in his honor, maybe while giving it a little kiss.

I love this guy.

These aren't the full titles, btw. For true wonderment, see below:

A most Excellent Receipt against Melancholy; Comforts the Stomach, openeth the Liver, helps head-ache, breeds good blood takes away faintness of the Heart, Swoonings, expells Melancholy, prevents Madness, makes a man merry and a chearful countenance; and taken at night, takes away all Fancies and Melancholy Dreams.

A most rare Powder to keep teeth from perishing, to fasten loose teeth, to restore the Gums wasted, to keep teeth white, or prevent tooth-ach, and make a sweet breath; It is the same I sell and use.

How to make Hair to grow.

For to make a most excellent Ball to take away the Spots, Freckles, Red-Pimples, and heats out of the Face and Hands: It' also takes spots out of Linnen or Woollen: It is the same I make & sell.

A Receipt how to write your name on a piece of Paper, and to burn that piece of Paper & the same letters to appear on the back of your hand.

A device to make a Chamber to appear full of Addors and Snakes.

To make Fish drunk, so that they will tumble to the side of the water; so that you may take them, if you be but nimble enough; else not.

How to catch Crows, Kites, Magpies, Jackdaws, alive with your hands.

A fine Conceit, to clear a Room of drunken or rude company.

A pretty Conceipt to fright the people of a house, and make them believe there are Spirits walking in a Room.

[triflesandparsnips]

:whisper:

look at them

they're beautiful

[triflesandparsnips]

...So like. Let's travel back in time to a year ago. I start doing these fun little historical recreations, right? Stede Bonnet's lip balm and such.

The original recipe for that lip balm uses almond oil, but for my first batch (and several batches thereafter), I used coconut oil, because-- well, it's not historically accurate for the recipe, but fandom decided pretty early on that coconut oil was the Lube of Choice on the jolly ship Revenge.

So I, naturally, thought it'd be hilarious to use coconut oil in some stuff. Just a lil fandom-lube fun for shits n giggles. Because lol.

...Now please fast forward to right now. Me, idly planning the rest of the night. An unspooling line of thoughts: I want to make alt-labels for my historical hand cream, something to match the ye olde lube fic I wrote to go with the lip balm-- the fic describes the label as a hand holding a ship-- I'd been asking around for artist suggestions, looking for someone who could maybe draw Stede's hand for the label, maybe I could start messaging folks?-- and of course, after my utter breakdown over the "sex scenes and how to show them" morning-after gif set, that'd be a great reference to forw--

At which point, my brain shuddered to a fucking halt.

Because--

Yeah. Stede's hand. His fingers. Circling, pressing, working into--

🥥coconut🥥

THIS SHOW. is literally sitting us down and saying "Look at how Stede fingers-- stuff. And, uh, by the way-- look at what he's smearing his fingers all over with."

(SEX SCENES. AND HOW. TO SHOW THEM.)

tl;dr I am now extremely fucking okay with considering coconut oil pirate lube as canon-confirmed.

[triflesandparsnips]

I've never done this before, so I don't know if it'll work, but...

yes I have a store, and yes here's the link where you can (hopefully?) buy Stede Bonnet's historically plausible lip balm and pearl face cream:

AND ALSO APOLOGIES IF I FUCKED IT UP

[triflesandparsnips]

Um. Izzy WAS rude first in that scene, though. The first thing he says isn't "still it's a nice room", it's "I was thinking what a complete misuse of space this is" or some such Badminton bullshit--and that's deliberate. He's deliberately being paralleled with Badminton with that line. Fucking piece of shit Izzy apologist bullshit.

My darling! My peach! Thank you for pointing out the true meaning of this scene, which, obviously, is the historical art of

COURTSHIP THROUGH CONVERSATION

As you and I both know well, dear heart, a popular publishing genre of the time was SAMPLE DIALOGUES between a wooing lover and a coy mistress -- as seen here, and here, and here, among many other places, several of which also include Etchings of a Curious Nature that I may only Hint At ere I too quickly tax your Gentle Sensibilities.

But leaving that aside, my darling moon and stars and small heavenly bodies that have been previously miscategorized as planets but that I nevertheless hold sacred in my heart-- there is a delightful subset of courtly conversation that, quite clearly, and as demonstrated by the canon and by your own dear letter, applies not only to our own tentative trembling tryst but also to that of Stede and Izzy!

I had not considered the matter before now, but your sly missive, so artful in its gentle tease and saucy in its declarations, reminded me strongly of what the sages called Mock-Complements, or Drolling-Complements. That is to say, when two would-be lovers, attempting to enter into a courtship but hesitant to appear too forward, treat their conversation with one another as if enemies rather than the hot-blooded lovers that they so dearly wish to be.

And so, just as your dear note falls between those lines, so too does that conversation between Stede and Izzy! For as you well know, since you most definitely reviewed the scene so as to ensure utmost accuracy in your thoughts and feelings before penning your note of Deep Romantic Interest as to My Person, behold:

Between a Roguish Sailor and a Fallen Gentleman. The Rogue, all courtesy How goes the fuckery? The Gentleman, his sharp reply What are you doing in here?

My God! What flirtatious delight! What promise of future connubial bliss! Look how clearly the Gentleman attempts to indicate the mode by which he wishes to be wooed! No sweet embrace nor honeyed words for him-- he seeks the speedy wit of a clever lover, pushing away with one hand while beckoning with the other, all Beatrice to his would-be Benedick. See how very intentionally Stede behaves rudely first, because gosh, protagonists can very much be assholes in their own right regardless of the motivations of any nearby antagonists who happen to be sharing screen time with them and for whom perhaps the audience is overly concerned with demonizing to the point of willfully ignoring the very literal previous dang line of dialogue--

Which, of course, you know! Because you too studied this scene with care and attention, and so, with your letter, wished to draw my notice to the deeper meaning of this clearly loving moment. My thanks, dear Sibyl, sweet Relevator of Forbidden Love, for urging forth this understanding.

And yet! A sad conclusion is simultaneously revealed. The tragedy of this bathic pairing is that while Stede has studied the modes and methods by which he can indicate his interest, Izzy has not had as thorough an education in the Artful Ways of Wooing. Rather than a fanciful rejoinder, he instead mirrors Stede's gambit-- a noble attempt at meeting his would-be paramour halfway, but sadly, only a Recipe for Missed Meanings. Our sad Izzy's reply would seem to parry the Gentleman's overture, rather than enjoin it-- and leads them, thus, to the Comedy of Errors wherein now they find their love, and also Ed is around here somewhere.

But never fear, my pocket pumpkin of pleasant fancies-- I will not make this mistake! Just as you so kindly dropped your handkerchief of Rather Ridiculous and Perhaps a Touch Juvenile Displays of Media Illiteracy before me in hopes that I might take it up for you, so too shall I offer it back again, perfumed with the hopes, dreams, and delights of our no-doubt felicitous and quite impending nuptials.

[triflesandparsnips]

SOAP MINI-UPDATE:

I'm going to go check on the version 2.0 lavender wash balls.

Will they have undergone a metamorphosis?

Or will they have succumbed to t̶͔̤̪͔̊̐̓͜ẖ̷̒̉̓̎̽̊e̸̪͈͎̓̒̚ ̸̬̖̹̥͜͝b̴̨̡͈͂͛͑̽̓͊ŗ̸̬̹̯̳̠́̏̚ò̸̡̼̼̟͎̑͌͑̑͘w̶̘͕̱͇̒͋͝n̶̹̟͊̉̓̄̓̕ ̴̧̮̘̼̖̳͐̃̚͝ḧ̸͇̩̹̣͖́o̶̖̳̭͔̐́̉ŗ̵̲̉͋̾̄͂͌r̵̨̛̳͚͓̮̐̇̆̉̚ô̴̯̟̹͇̾͒͝͝r̸͓̩̳̉̑͒̒̉̒ ?

I am filled with a terrible foreboding.

[triflesandparsnips]

hey hey guess what it's time for

Update 4: Return of the (Soap) King

For those who haven't been following along, I've been having a nice time doing experimental archaeology and recreating cosmetics/household goods that are historically plausible for local idiot pirate Stede Bonnet to have had around.

Figure 1. Me, addressing my kitchen appliances.

So far we've had successful lip balm, yet-to-be-completed Oil of Lavender, the terrible tragedies that have so far befallen the pearl face cream, and, finally, the unending journey of the one household item actually mentioned on the dang show: the lavender soap (with updates 1-3 and several mini-updates).

Did this all secretly derive from my researching period-appropriate medical horror? Yes. Am I still going to write about it? Of course come on now I can't just keep that enema information to myself--

But TODAY IS NOT THAT DAY.

Figure 2. One very excited ship's surgeon who will unfortunately have to bide his fuckin time.

Nope, today we're on the next iteration of the lavender soap, because we're still at the "fuck around and find out" portion of this experimental process-- and so, behold:

Version 3.0 7 oz. dried soap 4 oz. ground orrisroot 1 oz. ground whole cloves 1 oz. ground benjamin 10 drops lavender essential oil oil of lavender, q.s. rosewater, q.s.

You may notice that I have, tragically, only added enough of anything lavenderish to allow myself the honesty of still calling this "lavender" soap -- as previously discussed, lavender essential oils (as we know them today) were not really a Thing, and the Oil of Lavender (...which is not an essential oil, but rather an infusion of lavender flowers and olive oil) is not quite ready for primetime scent vibes, so I genuinely don't think these are comparable to actually just grinding up and shoving in the dried flowers.

But for the sake of Science, I needed to find out if removing the flowers would help with the browning issue of previous versions, so-- out went the lavender. For now.

Figure 3. Oh no, I-- oh man, don't cry, I'm sorry, I'll put it back omg.

Other changes in this version are:

store-bought ground orrisroot (...listen, Thomas is but a wee lad, and not yet hearty enough to wreck regular orrisroot as hard as it needs);

store-bought ground benzoin (because it was cheaper to buy in bulk that the solid resin from the woo-woo shop);

increased the amount of orrisroot from 1 ounce to 4 ounces, in keeping with some other recipes, to try and bulk up the myristic acid content (i.e., the thing wot makes olive-oil based Nabulsi soap actually produce a bubbly lather)

I should at this point say that typically the scientific process recommends making only one change at a time when conducting Experiments, so that one may know what exactly affected a change in a positive, negative, or neutral manner.

Consider, however, that I have no patience. So fuck it, we ball.

Show us the soap, trifles

To get to the soap, you must first suffer through mortifying ordeal of process photos.

Figure 4. The ground orrisroot on my tiny digital scale (that actually measures grains, which itself is a holdover from apothecary measurements!)

Wait wait wait actually look at my tiny bullshit scale, I love it, look at its little one-gram calibration weight:

Figure 5. A baby.

Figures 6 and 7. An ounce of whole cloves (left) and the results of young Thomas's efforts thrown on top of the orrisroot and benjamin in the mortar (right).

I should note that rather than grinding the cloves in my granite mortar and pestle first, I put them straight into Thomas's maw-- I don't know if that led to how intensely clove-oily these grounds are, or the fact that the lavender flowers were not present to soak it up. Previously I got a grey-green powder out of grinding the both together, so this rich, wet clove-color did not bode well for my "can I stop this from being brown?" soap plans...

Figure 8. ...Or maybe it'll be fine? I added the dried soap, and now look at them all mixed together!

As a note, I had to actually use a whisk at this point rather than just rely on my pestle to do the work -- my mortar is Too Small for these shenanigans, and the four ounces' worth of orrisroot did not help matters. I won't say how much of this mix ended up outside the mortar and on my clothes, but it was... it was a non-zero amount.

Whatever, thought I. This is Science. This is me experiencing the divine art of creation across space-time with my alchemical forebears, and also this is why I should not be allowed in other people's kitchens.

Notably, the upped powder content meant that I had to add a lot more splashes of rosewater to get to a dough-y state where the soap could be hand-rolled, and I had to work significantly longer with the pestle-- while version 2.0 was, per my notes, about 8-10 minutes' worth of work, I would call this a solid 20 minutes at least of beating the ever-loving shit outta this mix until everything was incorporated.

And once it was, well--

Figure 9. Hello, brown.

As you can see, the soap mix does form up very nicely, though it still requires a spatula to clear the sides of the mortar and pestle.

At this point, remembering that the last time I hand-rolled wash balls my palms came away Very Brown, I donned some latex gloves before I commenced my rolling. However, because (and again, I cannot stress this enough) I lack patience, I threw in another change: rather than leaving them as balls, I squished them slightly between my palms to flatten them into slightly more traditional soap shapes.

Figure 10. Cookie dough or falafel: you decide.

A note regarding the scent: Whether it's the relative lack of the lavender, or the big bump to the orrisroot (or some magic alchemical combination of the two), the soaps, while still smelling strongly like spice cookies, now have an oddly-unfamiliar-but-fascinating scent profile, similar to what I found happened when I made the lip pomatum. There's no good reason why this should make me believe that I've come closer to a "real" recipe, but the feeling is there nonetheless -- and it's definitely interesting.

Finally, and because the flat sides of these soaps looked too innocent, too pure, I decided to try that octopus stamp again. For future reference, stamping immediately after making these? Not a great idea. The soap stuck to the stamp like a motherfucker, and so a lot of detail was lost. But regardless--

Figure 11. Spice cookie kraken soap cakes, holy shit.

And now, I actually do have to wait a few days before I can try them out, or they'll fall the fuck to pieces. Keep watch for mini-updates, though, as I check out how they dry and probably do more unfortunate stamp experiments on them.

[triflesandparsnips]

First there was my mostly historically accurate Stede Bonnet lip balm--

then there was the continuing adventure of the mostly historically accurate scented soaps wash balls--

and apparently I didn't learn my lesson, because get ready for...

The Pearl Pomatum

(which is to say, the face cream)

(...I make myself laugh, and that's what's important here.)

[triflesandparsnips]

Meanwhile, shoutout to my apprentice Young Thomas, who may finally have taken an Injury trying to chomp up the almond

but digging himself from the grave I perhaps too hastily laid him came... A HERO

FREDERIK IS BACK

[triflesandparsnips]

Ahahahaha WELL YOU SEE @ihavenoideahowtodream,

(1) In May of 2022 I watched this little gay pirate show set in the year 1718 called Our Flag Means Death, and for shits and giggles I decided to search through scanned archives of medical and household manuals from that time period to see if there was anything meta-worthy about 'oranges'. As I was reading,

(2) I ran across a recipe for what looked like a very simple orange-flower-scented lip balm that I could make in my own kitchen and with remarkably few ingredients-- so I thought, hey, experimental archaeology, why not; which then

(3) despite being a 300 year old recipe, somehow absolutely, unexpectedly, gloriously worked, leading to a false sense of security resulting in my wondering whether, well--

(4) if I looked around some more, maybe I could find a recipe for Stede Bonnet's lavender soap, you know, the only actual fancy household supply mentioned in canon, how hard could it be, what could possibly go wrong--

(5) which brings us to the present day where, I must sadly report, this strange and all-encompassing madness is one from which I have yet to recover