Every soap we make starts somewhere. Irish Turf started next to a fire.
A farmhouse in Missouri
Long before there was a Big Stone Soap Co., there was my grandpa's farmhouse — and a hearth that never really went cold through the winter. He'd load logs in every morning and every night, and some of my earliest memories are of falling asleep next to that fire, sometimes with my sister, sometimes with a cousin or two crowded in beside me. The glow. The occasional hiss and pop of a spark escaping. The smell of woodsmoke that seemed to soak into everything, including us.
It's the kind of scent memory that never really leaves you. Decades later, I can still call it up instantly.
A farm in Donegal
Fast forward to the last few years. I've spent a month or more in Ireland most years, and a good chunk of that time is at my friend Ronan's farm in Donegal, where they still burn peat — actual turf, cut from the bog — in the hearth. The pubs nearby do too. Some of my favorite nights over there have been sitting next to that fire, turf smoldering, talking with Ronan and whoever else wandered in, late into the night.
A couple of years ago, sitting in exactly that spot, it hit me: that smell — the smoke, the earth, the warmth of it — was something I wanted to be able to carry home with me. That's the night Irish Turf started, even if it took a while to actually become a bar of soap.
Why it had to be the first bar
My family's Irish roots run deep — Stones, Fitzmaurices, Mitchells, Hartnetts, all the way back. So when I started Big Stone, there was never really a question of what the first scent would be. Irish Turf isn't just a fragrance we thought smelled good together. It's a farmhouse in Missouri and a farm in Donegal and a family history that spans both, distilled into a bar of soap.
What's actually in it
We built the scent around vetiver, ginger, and black pepper to capture that smoky, earthy turf character, balanced out with cedarwood and frankincense so it doesn't read as harsh or one-note. People who've actually sat next to a peat fire tend to be the ones who notice it smells right — that's the test we cared about most.
If you've never smelled turf smoke before, the closest comparison is a campfire with more depth to it — earthier, a little sweeter, less sharp than pine.
Try it yourself
[Draft — review before publishing. Consider adding a photo of the Donegal farm or hearth if you have one; it would pair well with this story.]
