Member
Minneapolis
Mike's Natural peppermint & rosemary
-Mark
Clay Face
Honolulu, Hawaii
Incienso (Eufros) camphor, black pepper, elemi, nutmeg
I’ve noticed that JabonMan’s soaps smell faint at first. But when they’re lathered, they open up considerably. This was the case with Incienso, a new tallow soap that arrived from Manuel’s workshop today. When I first lifted the lid off the tin, I thought he had sent me his unscented soap by mistake. But then I took a pinch of the paste – it’s still quite soft – rubbed it between my fingers, and took a deep breath. Most of my incense soaps are sweet and softened with notes of sandalwood, oud, frankincense, and myrrh. Incienso, however, nipped me with an unexpected burst of camphor, black pepper, elemi, and herbs. This wasn’t what I expected from a soap made in Barcelona.
Camphor, which makes up about 15% of a good rosemary oil, is not an unfamiliar scent to anyone who has enjoyed Martin de Candre shaving soaps. Its pungent sappiness gives those soaps their medicinal edge. After all, camphor, along with menthol, lies at the heart of products like VapoRub. Many of us grew up with a tub of this in the medicine closet. It came out whenever a cough set in. We tend to associate it with sickness and the ointments used to cure it.
In India and the mountain regions to the north – Nepal, Bhutan, Tibet – camphor’s use is quite different. There it flavors sweets and candies, and is considered a much sought after delicacy. It comes out on holidays and festivals. The incense burned in Himalayan monasteries is also heavy with camphor. Light up a twist of Tibetan incense, and you may find the slightly bitter smell of camphor, burning grass, and herbs takes a little getting used to, especially if your idea of pure incense is creamy Mysore sandalwood or darkly sweet agarwood.
It may also take a little while to get used to JabonMan’s Incienso. This isn’t another cloying concoction of nag champa or Egyptian dragon or frankincense & myrrh. In fact, it’s hardly sweet, and its faint smokiness is surprisingly reserved. When you slather this under your nose, you won’t feel like you’re at church before the altar, or at the yoga studio wrapped in meditation. Instead, Incienso is more likely to transport you to a high, stoney monastery in the shadow of Mt Kailash.
After your last pass, if you’re looking for a little sweetness without leaving that corner of the world, follow up with Bertrand Duchaufour’s Dzongkha. Its iris and peony will nicely complement Incienso’s austerity.
I’ve noticed that JabonMan’s soaps smell faint at first. But when they’re lathered, they open up considerably. This was the case with Incienso, a new tallow soap that arrived from Manuel’s workshop today. When I first lifted the lid off the tin, I thought he had sent me his unscented soap by mistake. But then I took a pinch of the paste – it’s still quite soft – rubbed it between my fingers, and took a deep breath. Most of my incense soaps are sweet and softened with notes of sandalwood, oud, frankincense, and myrrh. Incienso, however, nipped me with an unexpected burst of camphor, black pepper, elemi, and herbs. This wasn’t what I expected from a soap made in Barcelona.
Camphor, which makes up about 15% of a good rosemary oil, is not an unfamiliar scent to anyone who has enjoyed Martin de Candre shaving soaps. Its pungent sappiness gives those soaps their medicinal edge. After all, camphor, along with menthol, lies at the heart of products like VapoRub. Many of us grew up with a tub of this in the medicine closet. It came out whenever a cough set in. We tend to associate it with sickness and the ointments used to cure it.
In India and the mountain regions to the north – Nepal, Bhutan, Tibet – camphor’s use is quite different. There it flavors sweets and candies, and is considered a much sought after delicacy. It comes out on holidays and festivals. The incense burned in Himalayan monasteries is also heavy with camphor. Light up a twist of Tibetan incense, and you may find the slightly bitter smell of camphor, burning grass, and herbs takes a little getting used to, especially if your idea of pure incense is creamy Mysore sandalwood or darkly sweet agarwood.
It may also take a little while to get used to JabonMan’s Incienso. This isn’t another cloying concoction of nag champa or Egyptian dragon or frankincense & myrrh. In fact, it’s hardly sweet, and its faint smokiness is surprisingly reserved. When you slather this under your nose, you won’t feel like you’re at church before the altar, or at the yoga studio wrapped in meditation. Instead, Incienso is more likely to transport you to a high, stoney monastery in the shadow of Mt Kailash.
After your last pass, if you’re looking for a little sweetness without leaving that corner of the world, follow up with Bertrand Duchaufour’s Dzongkha. Its iris and peony will nicely complement Incienso’s austerity.
![[Image: CdJViCQ.jpg]](https://i.imgur.com/CdJViCQ.jpg)
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