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

Somewhere between the mint patch and the forgotten corner of countless herb gardens grows a plant that medieval monks considered more valuable than gold. Lemon balm, with its crinkled leaves and subtle citrus perfume, has been quietly revolutionizing home apotaries for over two thousand years. Yet most gardeners walk past it, mistaking it for its pushy cousin, common mint. This oversight might be the greatest herbal tragedy of our modern age.

I first encountered lemon balm during a particularly brutal bout of insomnia in my thirties. A Croatian neighbor, noticing my haggard appearance over the fence one morning, disappeared into her house and returned with a mason jar filled with dried leaves. "My grandmother's remedy," she said simply, pressing it into my hands. That night, after brewing the leaves into a pale golden tea, I experienced the kind of deep, dreamless sleep I hadn't known since childhood. It wasn't just the sleep, though—it was the peculiar sense of calm that preceded it, as if someone had gently turned down the volume on my racing thoughts.

Growing Your Own Lemon Balm Supply

Before you can transform lemon balm into anything useful, you need a reliable source. Store-bought dried herbs work in a pinch, but there's something almost magical about harvesting your own. The plant itself is ridiculously easy to grow—almost insultingly so. It thrives on neglect, spreads with enthusiasm, and forgives nearly every gardening sin except waterlogged soil.

Plant lemon balm in partial shade if you live somewhere hot, or full sun if you're in a cooler climate. The soil doesn't need to be anything special; in fact, overly rich soil produces leaves with less concentrated essential oils. I've grown magnificent specimens in clay soil that would make other herbs weep. Space plants about 18 inches apart, though honestly, they'll fill in whatever space you give them within a season or two.

The real trick isn't growing lemon balm—it's containing it. This herb has ambitions. Without barriers, it will colonize your entire garden with the determination of a suburban developer. I learned this the hard way when I found lemon balm sprouting through cracks in my driveway, twenty feet from the original planting. Now I grow it in large containers or beds with buried edging at least 12 inches deep.

Harvesting at Peak Potency

Timing your harvest makes the difference between a mediocre herb and one that actually delivers on its promises. Most herbalists will tell you to harvest just before flowering, and they're not wrong, but I've found the sweet spot is actually when you see the first few flower buds forming but haven't yet opened. The leaves at this stage contain maximum volatile oils.

Morning harvesting, after the dew has dried but before the sun gets intense, yields the most aromatic leaves. I've tested this obsessively—afternoon-harvested lemon balm simply doesn't have the same punch. Cut stems about 4-6 inches long, taking no more than two-thirds of the plant at once. The remaining third will bounce back with fresh growth within weeks.

Here's something most people don't realize: the second and third harvests of the season often produce more potent leaves than the first spring growth. Those later summer leaves, stressed by heat and defending against insects, concentrate their essential oils as a survival mechanism. It's nature's way of rewarding patience.

Creating Lemon Balm Tea That Actually Works

Making lemon balm tea sounds simple—pour hot water over leaves, wait, drink. But there's a world of difference between a weak, grassy brew and a properly extracted therapeutic tea. The key lies in understanding that lemon balm's beneficial compounds are both water-soluble and heat-sensitive. Too hot, and you'll evaporate the volatile oils. Too cool, and you won't extract the rosmarinic acid and other beneficial compounds.

For fresh leaves, use about 2 tablespoons per cup of water. With dried leaves, cut that amount in half—drying concentrates the active compounds. Heat your water to just below boiling, around 200°F if you're being precise about it. Pour the water over the leaves and immediately cover the vessel. This is crucial. Those aromatic compounds that make lemon balm effective are eager to escape into the air.

Steep for 10-15 minutes. Any less and you're leaving medicine in the leaves. Any more and you start extracting bitter compounds that make the tea less pleasant without adding benefits. Strain and drink while warm. I often make a concentrated batch in the evening, storing half in the refrigerator for a refreshing iced tea the next day.

The Art of Lemon Balm Tinctures

Tinctures extract different compounds than water-based preparations, creating a more concentrated and shelf-stable medicine. The alcohol pulls out resins and volatile oils that water can't touch. I make two types: a fresh plant tincture that captures the bright, lemony essence, and a dried plant tincture that emphasizes the deeper, more grounding properties.

For fresh plant tinctures, fill a jar with coarsely chopped leaves, packing them loosely. Cover with 100-proof vodka (50% alcohol is ideal for fresh plants because of their water content). For dried plant tinctures, use a 1:5 ratio by weight—one ounce of dried herb to five ounces of 80-proof vodka or higher.

Let the mixture macerate for 4-6 weeks, shaking daily for the first week, then whenever you remember after that. The color will shift from bright green to deep amber. Strain through cheesecloth, squeezing out every last drop. The resulting tincture keeps for years and delivers effects within minutes when taken sublingually.

Crafting Lemon Balm Oil and Salves

Oil infusions open up entirely different applications for lemon balm. The herb's antiviral properties, particularly against herpes simplex, make it valuable for topical preparations. I've seen cold sores stopped in their tracks with properly made lemon balm oil.

Use only thoroughly dried herbs for oil infusions—any moisture invites mold. Fill a jar halfway with dried leaves, then cover completely with olive oil or jojoba oil, leaving an inch of headspace. The slow method involves letting this sit in a warm place for 4-6 weeks. The quick method uses gentle heat: place the jar in a slow cooker with water reaching halfway up the jar, set on low for 4-6 hours.

To transform the oil into a salve, gently warm it with beeswax at a ratio of 4:1 (four parts oil to one part beeswax). Pour into small containers while liquid. The resulting salve soothes bug bites, calms skin irritations, and yes, can halt cold sores when applied at the first tingle.

Preserving the Harvest

Drying lemon balm requires more finesse than hanging it in a dusty attic like your grandmother might have done. The volatile oils that make this herb special evaporate easily, so quick drying at low temperatures preserves the most therapeutic value.

I use a dehydrator set at 95°F, which maintains the integrity of heat-sensitive compounds. Lacking a dehydrator, spread leaves in a single layer on screens in a dark, well-ventilated room. They should dry within 3-5 days. Properly dried leaves remain green and aromatic, not brown and hay-scented. Store in airtight containers away from light.

Freezing offers another preservation method that many overlook. Chop fresh leaves, pack into ice cube trays, cover with water, and freeze. These herbal ice cubes drop perfectly into hot water for instant tea or into summer beverages for a refreshing twist.

Beyond Basic Preparations

Once you've mastered teas and tinctures, lemon balm reveals its versatility. The leaves make exceptional compound butters—mix minced fresh leaves into softened butter with a pinch of salt. This herbal butter transforms everything from morning toast to grilled fish.

Lemon balm honey captures the herb's essence in a particularly delightful form. Pack a jar with fresh leaves, pour raw honey over them, and let it infuse for two weeks. The resulting honey soothes sore throats, calms pre-bedtime jitters, and elevates cheese plates to aristocratic heights.

For the adventurous, lemon balm wine follows traditions dating to medieval monasteries. The process requires patience but rewards with a unique beverage that's both refreshing and mildly sedating. Even simpler, muddle fresh leaves into gin for an instant herbal cocktail base that would make any mixologist envious.

Understanding What You've Made

Creating lemon balm preparations is only half the equation—knowing how to use them effectively completes the circle. The tea works best for acute situations: pre-exam jitters, occasional insomnia, digestive upset after a heavy meal. Sip slowly, allowing the aromatic compounds to work through both ingestion and inhalation.

Tinctures offer more concentrated effects and greater convenience. A dropperful in water provides quick relief for anxiety or mental fog. Some people find tinctures more effective for chronic issues, taking small doses throughout the day rather than waiting for acute symptoms.

Topical preparations shine for skin conditions and viral outbreaks. Apply oil or salve at the first sign of a cold sore, reapplying every few hours. The same preparations soothe insect bites and minor skin irritations with surprising efficiency.

The Deeper Practice

Making your own lemon balm preparations connects you to an unbroken chain of herbalists stretching back millennia. There's profound satisfaction in transforming a humble garden plant into effective medicine. But beyond the practical benefits lies something harder to quantify—the meditative quality of working with herbs, the seasonal rhythm of planting and harvesting, the quiet confidence that comes from self-reliance.

I've taught dozens of people to make lemon balm preparations over the years. Without fail, those who stick with it report not just better sleep or calmer nerves, but a shifted relationship with their own health. They stop seeing wellness as something dispensed by professionals and start recognizing it as something they can cultivate, literally and figuratively.

The Croatian neighbor who first introduced me to lemon balm tea passed away three years ago. Before she died, she gave me cuttings from her original plant, supposedly descended from seeds her grandmother brought from the old country. Every time I harvest those plants, transform them into medicine, and share that medicine with others, I feel connected to a lineage of healing that transcends time and borders. That's the real magic of making your own lemon balm preparations—not just the compounds extracted or the symptoms relieved, but the threads of connection woven between past and future, garden and kitchen, plant and person.

Authoritative Sources:

Chevallier, Andrew. Encyclopedia of Herbal Medicine. 3rd ed., DK Publishing, 2016.

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.

Mills, Simon, and Kerry Bone. Principles and Practice of Phytotherapy. 2nd ed., Churchill Livingstone, 2013.

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.