Ever wondered why some homes just smell like—I dunno—actual happiness? Not talking about those fake-smelling plug-ins that give me headaches worse than the time I tried fermenting kimchi in my hall closet. My love affair with simmer pots began on October 17th, 2018, when my power went out during a freakish autumn thunderstorm and I panic-dumped a half-eaten apple, random spice cabinet refugees, and what might’ve been orange peels into my grandmother’s tarnished copper pot. The resulting aroma was what I now call “nose-gasmic” (yep, I just made that up and I’m sticking with it).
I’ve been scent-brewing (another term I’ve coined for my particular simmer pot methodology) for nearly 6 years now, and lemme tell you, everyone thinks they know how to make a house smell good until they’ve experienced the apple-spiced atmospheric transformation that happens with my method. Anyways, this isn’t rocket science, but it’s definitely not what most of those fancy home magazines tell you to do either. Let’s jump right in—you’ll thank me when your home smells like autumn had a baby with a bakery.
My Personal Simmer Pot Awakening
So I was standing in my kitchen last November—actually, might’ve been late October?—staring at a bowl of slightly bruised apples thinking about completely unrelated stuff like whether I should finally clean the refrigerator coils (still haven’t, oops) when my neighbor Claudia knocked on my door complaining about how her house always smelled like her husband’s gym socks.
My first attempts at simmer pots were honestly tragic disasters. I once left one unattended while watching a movie marathon and returned to find what looked like a crime scene of cinnamon-scented sludge all over my stovetop. Grandma Lil (who never actually existed outside my head but gives excellent advice) always said “the nose knows when the pot goes,” which makes zero sense but somehow guides my timing perfectly.
Living in the humid swampland of southern Louisiana creates unique challenges for home fragrance—scents get trapped and go funky faster than catfish in July. That’s why I developed what I call the “triple-depth infusion” technique for my Spiced Apple Simmer Pot Recipe. (Sometimes I just dump everything in at once and call it a “chaotic blessing,” but don’t tell anyone that part.)
Ingredients for Aromatic Bliss
- 2 medium apples (bruised ones work BETTER—fight me on this) sliced into fat chunks
- 3 cinnamon sticks OR a small handful of broken pieces from the bottom of your spice jar if you’re keeping it real
- 1 orange, unpeeled and quartered—the uglier the better for some reason??
- 2.5 Grandma pinches of cloves (approximately 1 tablespoon for those who didn’t grow up measuring by pinch)
- A splash-and-a-half of vanilla extract (the cheap stuff works fine here, save the good vanilla for actual eating)
- 11-13 allspice berries (or just dump some in until it feels right)
- 3 star anise pods (or 4 if they’re small) (or even 5 if you’re feeling rebellious)
- A generous thumb of fresh ginger, sliced (no need to peel—I’ve never understood why people waste time peeling ginger)
- 2 tablespoons maple syrup, preferably the real stuff but I’ve used the fake breakfast kind in desperate times
- Optional but highly recommended: 1 sneaky shot of bourbon or spiced rum (what happens in the simmer pot stays in the simmer pot)
The Aromatic Enchantment Process
STEP 1: Find your most beloved pot—I use my “lucky dented pot” which survived three apartment moves and that time I accidentally left it on the porch during a hurricane. Fill it about 2/3 with water (I eyeball it—measuring water is for people with too much time).
2nd PHASE: Toss in your apple chunks with reckless abandon. The way they hit the water actually matters; I prefer the “rainfall method” where you drop them from about 8 inches above the pot rather than placing them gently. Creates better aroma distribution through splash-activation (a completely made-up concept that nevertheless works).
THIRD: Add your orange quarters, but—and this is crucial—squeeze each one slightly over the pot before dropping it in. My friend Tasha taught me this technique after she swore she learned it in Italy, though I later found out she’d never been to Italy.
STEP FOUR-ISH: Now for the spice integration—this is where most simmer pot recipes go terribly wrong! Don’t just dump everything in at once like a kitchen novice. Add the cinnamon and cloves first, let them swim around for about 3 minutes (or the length of your favorite short song), then introduce the star anise and allspice while gently humming something cheerful.
- The vanilla goes in only after you’ve brought the mixture to what I call a “whisper simmer”—not a full boil, not even a normal simmer, but that magical state where tiny bubbles are just thinking about forming. Check out my recipe for mulled cider that uses a similar technique.
Remember that time I forgot this step and added vanilla to boiling water? My kitchen smelled like a cheap candle shop for THREE DAYS. Learn from my suffering, friends.
PHASE THE SIXTH: Reduce heat to the lowest possible setting where you still see occasional movement in the water. This is where patience becomes your secret ingredient. A watched simmer pot eventually fills your home with what I’ve named “apple-hug-air.”
Notes & Essential Wisdom
• NEVER EVER use those red delicious apples—they were created by sadists who hate flavor and aroma. I discovered this devastating truth after ruining a simmer pot for my mother-in-law’s first visit. Honeycrisp, Gala, or even Granny Smith apples create dramatically superior scent profiles.
★ The Lazarus Revival Technique: When your simmer pot starts looking sad and depleted, don’t toss it! Add fresh water and a splash of maple syrup, then bring back to a whisper simmer. Old Man Jenkins (my imaginary culinary mentor who supposedly worked in French palace kitchens) taught me this sustainability approach.
• CONTROVERSIAL OPINION: Most recipes tell you to toss your simmer pot after one use. ABSOLUTELY NOT! According to the food waste experts at SaveTheFood, you can refrigerate and reuse your pot for up to 3 days, adding fresh water as needed. The second day often produces even deeper scent notes!
- Store leftovers in the refrigerator and warm them up the next day—the scent actually intensifies after a night of flavor-melding.
◇ Warning: Don’t leave your simmer pot unattended if you have cats. My Siamese Percy once knocked over an entire pot trying to fish out what he apparently thought was some exotic water toy. The cinnamon stains on my cream carpet created interesting conversation starters for years afterward.
Kitchen Tools That Make Scent Magic Happen
GOOD-ENOUGH POT ★★★★★
Mine has a slightly warped bottom that makes alarming noises on my glass cooktop, but I refuse to replace it.
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09NWRHCTT
WOODEN SPOON WITH HISTORY ★★★★★
The one with the slightly charred end that I once accidentally left resting on the burner during a phone call.
I swear this specific wooden spoon makes simmer pots smell better—something about the wood grain memory.
APPLE CORER-SLICER CONTRAPTION ★★★★★
Discontinued in 2013, but I found mine at a yard sale and guard it with my life.
Completely ignore the manufacturer’s suggestion to align it with the apple core—offset slightly for better chunks.
Aromatic Adaptations & Substitutions
Winter Holiday Variation: Swap one apple for a handful of cranberries and add 3 crushed cardamom pods. This creates what my weird Uncle Marty calls “Christmas in a steam cloud” though he’s also been known to say this about his bathroom after a shower.
For citrus-forward scent: Replace the orange with two lemons and add rosemary sprigs. I discovered this combination accidentally when I was making my Lemon Herb Roasted Chicken and had leftovers.
If you’re out of cinnamon sticks (the HORROR), try using 1 tablespoon of chai tea leaves wrapped in cheesecloth instead. The result is slightly more subtle but has this wonderful complexity that makes guests ask, “What IS that amazing smell?” which is basically the highest compliment possible.
The Big Question Everyone Asks
Can I use apple juice instead of real apples in my simmer pot?
Technically yes, but I consider this the equivalent of wearing pajama pants to a wedding. Could you? Sure. Should you? Absolutely not. Real apple chunks release their aromatic compounds gradually through what I call “slow-scent therapy,” creating layers of fragrance that evolve over hours. Apple juice gives you a one-dimensional blast that quickly fades like a cheap perfume sample. I once conducted a side-by-side test at a holiday gathering, and 11 out of 12 guests could identify which room had the authentic Spiced Apple Simmer Pot Recipe working its magic. The 12th guest had a cold, so their opinion doesn’t count.
Final Aromatic Thoughts
I’ve created countless variations of my Spiced Apple Simmer Pot Recipe over the years, but this version remains my most requested “recipe” (can we call it a recipe if you don’t eat it? These are the questions that keep me up at night).
What scent memories will your simmer pot create? Will you become the person everyone associates with magically delicious-smelling homes? Could this be the beginning of your reputation as the host with the most atmospheric dwelling on the block?
I’m currently experimenting with a summer version using peach pits and lemongrass—it’s either going to be brilliant or a complete disaster, which describes most of my kitchen adventures accurately.
Until next time, may your home smell better than your neighbor’s and your simmer pots never run dry!
—Chef MoonMist, Certified Aromatic Enthusiast and 3rd place winner in the completely fictional 2022 Northeast Regional Simmer Pot Championships
