How to make a hydrosol.

Get it going, then sit on the porch.

This time of year drips. The air is drenched in scent, and the days stretch long and slow. The wet season has arrived.

Even though the humidity is thick and it's 90 degrees by 9 AM, something about it makes me want to bottle it up. It’s a good time of year for hydrosol-making as a way to slow down. To notice a plant’s shape, smell, and essence. To watch it soften in the steam, releasing what it’s been holding. Distillation is a way of getting at something underneath.

The wet season in Florida confuses a lot of people. It’s, at times, unbearably hot. It’s not the season the postcards sell, not the one the snowbirds stay for. But I kind of like it. Everything slows down. The days are sticky, but they shimmer in their way. The lake days, boiled peanuts, the thinned-out traffic on the coast, plus I don’t have to water my garden. The wet season has its perks, if I let it seep in.

A hydrosol is a gentle water extract of a plant, not as intense or concentrated as an essential oil, but still holding its scent, subtle compounds, and energy. It’s made of what rises in the steam and drips back down, carrying traces of a plant’s flavor, aroma, and the energy of how it is in the world.

I like hydrosols best for leaves. This past weekend, we did 3 separate pots of lemongrass, scrub bay, and wax myrtle leaves. Flowers can be a little trickier. They smell so beautiful on the plant and in the air, but can turn musty in the pot. Still, experiment! But leaves seem to give more freely, and the scent stays clean and light. Leaves with high volatile oil content will work best. A good trick is to crush them in your hand and feel for the oils, notice the strong smell: lemon balm, mint, rosemary, pine, spruce.

Summer moves fast. It’s extreme everywhere: plans stack up, growth explodes, the days feel endless, but after it’s all done, the season itself feels short and I want it back. It’s a sprint, a rush, and then it’s over. There’s gotta be a way to get inside of it. To stop the running from one thing to the next. To let the heat slow me down instead of speeding me up.

That’s what hydrosol-making is for me. An exit-ramp, a way to step off the ride. A lazy thing to make, perfect for summer. A set-it-and-forget-it type preparation: get it going, then sit on the porch.

It’s a way to slow down while everything else rushes on.

Make a Hydrosol

Here’s how to make a simple stovetop hydrosol. No fancy equipment, just a pot, a bowl, and plant, some water, and a little patience.

You’ll need:

• A pot with a lid

• A heat-safe bowl or ramekin

• A steamer or some other stand

• Ice (a large bowl’s worth)

• Fresh plant material

• Water

• Scissors

How to make it:

1. Snip your plant material over the pot and add enough water to just cover the plants.

2. Place the steamer or heat-safe rack in the center of the pot, with the heat-safe bowl on top (this is where the hydrosol will collect).

3. Invert the pot lid and place it on top. Add ice to the inverted lid—this helps condense the steam back into liquid.

4. Bring the water to a low simmer. As it steams, the hydrosol will collect in the bowl.

5. Let it go for 20–30 minutes, then turn off the heat and let it cool. You may need to drain off melted water from the lid and add more ice partway through.

6. You may have to drain melted water from the lid and add more ice.

7. Carefully pour your hydrosol into a clean jar. For ease of use, decant a little into a spray bottle—this makes it easy to mist onto your face, linens, or hands throughout the day.

8. Store in the fridge and use within 4–6 weeks.

9. If you’re curious about scent combinations, try making separate hydrosols first, then blending them in small amounts to experiment with layered aromas.

How to use:
Hydrosols have been around for centuries. Orange blossom water and rose water are hydrosols, traditionally used in the kitchen as much as in the bath. I think of orange flower water in Breton butter cake (that we made when I worked at Prune), or rose water in desserts across the Middle East and South Asia. I’m thinking how good the lemongrass hydrosol I made will be in curry.

Of course, you don’t have to cook with them. Spritz your hydrosol on linens, your face, your hands in the afternoon heat. Keep it by your bed or your desk or in your bag. Hydrosols are gentle because they’re so dilute, so they’re generally safe.

Let the smell remind you: you made this. A small part of the season, held in water, while it lasted.