How to Make Lemon Balm Tea, Tinctures, and Other Herbal Preparations from Your Garden

I've been growing and working with lemon balm for nearly two decades now, and I still get a little thrill every time I brush past the plant and catch that bright, citrusy scent. There's something deeply satisfying about transforming this humble herb into medicine that actually works – and trust me, after years of experimenting with different methods, I've learned what makes the difference between a mediocre preparation and one that truly captures the plant's essence.

Lemon balm (Melissa officinalis) is one of those herbs that seems almost too easy. It grows like a weed – actually, some gardeners consider it one – and yet it's been prized for centuries as a nervine, digestive aid, and antiviral powerhouse. The trick isn't growing it; it's knowing when to harvest and how to preserve those volatile compounds that give lemon balm its magic.

The Art of Timing Your Harvest

Most herbalists will tell you to harvest herbs in the morning after the dew dries but before the sun gets too hot. With lemon balm, I've found this advice only partially holds true. Yes, morning is ideal, but the real secret is watching for that perfect moment just before the plant flowers. You'll see tiny buds forming at the leaf joints – that's your cue. The leaves are absolutely bursting with essential oils at this stage.

I learned this the hard way. My first few years, I'd harvest whenever the mood struck, wondering why my teas tasted more like grass than lemon. Then an old-timer at the farmers market set me straight. "You're letting all the good stuff go into those flowers," she said, shaking her head at my dried bundles. She was right. Once lemon balm blooms, the leaves lose much of their potency.

The actual harvesting is straightforward enough. I use sharp scissors and cut stems about 4-6 inches long, leaving at least two sets of leaves at the base so the plant can regenerate. Some people strip individual leaves, but I find that tedious and unnecessary. Plus, handling the leaves too much bruises them and releases those precious oils into the air instead of into your preparations.

Making Fresh Lemon Balm Tea

Fresh lemon balm tea is where most people start, and honestly, it might be where they should stay. There's something almost medicinal about the ritual itself – stepping into the garden, selecting a handful of stems, and brewing them immediately. The fresh plant has compounds that don't survive drying, particularly some of the more subtle nervine properties.

For a proper fresh tea, I use about 1/4 cup of loosely packed fresh leaves per cup of water. Here's where I diverge from common advice: don't pour boiling water directly on fresh lemon balm. Let your water cool for about 30 seconds first. Those volatile oils are delicate, and scalding water sends them straight into the air. You'll smell it – that gorgeous lemony steam – but you want those compounds in your cup, not floating around your kitchen.

Cover your steeping tea. I cannot stress this enough. Use a saucer, a small plate, whatever you have. Let it steep for 10-15 minutes. The resulting tea should be pale golden-green with an unmistakable lemon scent that's more complex than actual lemon – there's a hint of mint, a touch of honey, something indefinably green.

The Drying Dilemma

Drying lemon balm properly is where many people fail. I've seen so many sad, brown, flavorless batches that it breaks my herbalist heart. The enemy here is heat and time. Lemon balm wants to dry quickly but gently.

My method has evolved over the years. I used to hang bundles in my attic like everyone else, but I've switched to screen drying. I lay individual stems on old window screens propped up on blocks in a dark, well-ventilated room. The air circulation is key. In humid climates, you might need a fan – not blowing directly on the herbs, but moving air around the room.

The leaves are ready when they crumble easily but still retain some green color. If they're brown or gray, you've lost most of the medicinal value. This usually takes 3-5 days in my climate, but your mileage may vary. Once dried, I strip the leaves from the stems and store them in amber glass jars. Properly dried lemon balm should still smell distinctly lemony, though not as intensely as fresh.

Creating Lemon Balm Tincture

Tinctures are where lemon balm really shines, in my opinion. The alcohol captures both the water-soluble and alcohol-soluble compounds, creating a preparation that's shelf-stable for years and incredibly potent. I make both fresh and dried plant tinctures, and they're different medicines entirely.

For fresh plant tincture, I fill a jar loosely with chopped fresh lemon balm and cover it with 95% grain alcohol diluted to about 75% with distilled water. Why not 100% alcohol? Because fresh plants contain water, and you need some water in your menstruum to extract certain compounds. The math gets complicated, but 75% is a good starting point for fresh aerial parts.

With dried lemon balm, I use a 1:5 ratio by weight – one part dried herb to five parts menstruum. Here I use 50% alcohol, 50% water. The dried plant material will expand significantly, so leave room in your jar.

The real secret to good tinctures is patience and movement. I shake my jars daily for the first two weeks, then every few days after that. After six weeks, I strain through cheesecloth, squeezing every last drop from the marc (the spent plant material). The resulting tincture should be green-gold and taste intensely of lemon balm with that characteristic slight bitterness.

Oil Infusions and Salves

Lemon balm makes a surprisingly effective topical preparation, especially for cold sores and other herpes outbreaks. The challenge with oil infusions is that you're trying to extract water-loving compounds into oil, which requires some finesse.

I've had the best success with the fresh-wilted method. Harvest your lemon balm and let it wilt for 12-24 hours until it's limp but not crispy. This reduces the water content without losing too many volatile oils. Pack a jar with the wilted herb and cover with olive oil, making sure all plant material is submerged.

Some herbalists swear by the cold infusion method – letting the jar sit for 4-6 weeks. I'm impatient. I use gentle heat, placing the jar in a slow cooker on warm (not low) with water coming about halfway up the jar. I let it infuse for 3-4 days, checking that the temperature stays below 110°F. The resulting oil is green and fragrant, perfect for making salves or using directly on the skin.

Glycerites for Children and Alcohol-Sensitive Folks

Not everyone can or wants to use alcohol-based preparations. Glycerites offer a sweet alternative that's particularly good for children or anyone avoiding alcohol. The downside? Glycerin doesn't extract compounds as efficiently as alcohol, and the shelf life is shorter.

I make lemon balm glycerite with fresh plants only. The process is similar to tincturing – fill a jar with fresh, chopped lemon balm and cover with a mixture of 75% vegetable glycerin and 25% distilled water. The water is crucial; pure glycerin is too thick and doesn't extract well.

After 4-6 weeks of daily shaking and patient waiting, strain out the plant material. The resulting glycerite is sweet and lemony, perfect for adding to water or taking directly. Kids usually love it, which is helpful since lemon balm is such a gentle, effective remedy for childhood anxiety and sleep issues.

Preservation Methods I've Abandoned (And Why)

Over the years, I've tried every preservation method under the sun. Some work beautifully; others are a waste of good herbs. Freezing lemon balm, for instance, seems like it should work. It doesn't. The leaves turn black and mushy, losing both flavor and medicinal properties.

I've also given up on lemon balm vinegar. While other herbs make lovely vinegars, lemon balm's delicate nature doesn't hold up well to the acidity. The result is usually disappointing – neither good medicine nor good food.

Steam distillation for essential oil is theoretically possible but practically frustrating. Lemon balm yields so little essential oil that home distillation isn't worth the effort unless you have massive amounts of plant material and specialized equipment.

The Question of Combinations

Lemon balm plays well with others, and some of my favorite preparations are blends. Lemon balm and chamomile is a classic for good reason – they enhance each other's calming properties. I often add a bit of catnip too, especially for children's blends. The combination is gently sedating without being overpowering.

For digestive issues, I blend lemon balm with peppermint and fennel. The lemon balm adds an antispasmodic quality that complements the other herbs beautifully. In tincture form, this blend has saved many dinner parties at my house.

Storage and Shelf Life Realities

Here's something most herbalists won't tell you: even properly stored dried lemon balm loses significant potency after a year. I've kept some for two years and used it, but it's a shadow of its former self. This is why I only dry what I'll use in a year and rely on tinctures for longer-term storage.

Tinctures, stored in amber glass away from heat and light, maintain their potency for 5-7 years. I've used older ones, but again, there's a noticeable decline in effectiveness. Glycerites last 1-2 years, oil infusions about a year, and fresh plant preparations should be used immediately.

Final Thoughts on Working with Lemon Balm

After all these years, lemon balm continues to surprise me. Just when I think I've figured out all its secrets, I'll discover a new preparation method or combination that opens up fresh possibilities. The key is to approach each batch with curiosity and attention.

The most important thing I've learned? Respect the plant. Lemon balm may grow like a weed, but it's a sophisticated medicine that deserves careful handling. Whether you're making a simple tea or a complex tincture blend, the quality of your preparation depends on understanding and working with the plant's nature, not against it.

Start simple. Make a fresh tea. Pay attention to how it tastes, how it makes you feel. Then try drying some, making a tincture, experimenting with combinations. Each method reveals different aspects of the plant's personality. Before long, you'll develop your own relationship with lemon balm, your own preferred methods, your own insights. That's when the real magic happens – when you stop following recipes and start truly making medicine.

Authoritative Sources:

Gladstar, Rosemary. Medicinal Herbs: A Beginner's Guide. Storey Publishing, 2012.

Grieve, Maud. A Modern Herbal. Dover Publications, 1971.

Hoffmann, David. Medical Herbalism: The Science and Practice of Herbal Medicine. Healing Arts Press, 2003.

Moore, Michael. Medicinal Plants of the Pacific West. Red Crane Books, 1993.

Tierra, Michael. The Way of Herbs. Pocket Books, 1998.

Wood, Matthew. The Earthwise Herbal: A Complete Guide to Old World Medicinal Plants. North Atlantic Books, 2008.