My Mexican Grandma’s Old-School Method for Making Her Home Smell Like Fall

Autumn brings some of the best smells, from bonfires to pumpkin spice lattes to apple pies. But when I was growing up, fall just smelled like one thing: my abuelita’s kitchen. The moment September crept in, the air in our home would transform into something rich, spiced, sweet, and warm all at once. The aroma always hugged the air during cozy evenings, family gatherings, and Día de los Muertos festivities. The source of the evocative fragrance was a simple olla aromática (or simmer pot) bubbling ever-so-gently on the stove, enveloping me in comfort and magic.

Every year I’d watch my mom prepare each pot, which she learned from my dear grandmother (who learned it from my great-grandmother). When I moved away from home for college, I started making my own. I wanted to make my apartment smell good, yes, but I was also longing for a piece of home. Now, every fall, my space smells just like my abuelita’s. 

An olla aromática is a simmer pot, and it’s incredibly easy to make. More than likely, you already have everything you need in your kitchen. The women in my family always use some sort of combination of the following ingredients: Mexican vanilla, cinnamon sticks, orange slices, piloncillo (unrefined cane sugar), cloves, apple slices, coffee beans, pumpkin, cardamom, and star anise.

You simply mix the ingredients into a medium pot of water (about 7 or 8 cups), bring it to a roaring boil, and then reduce the heat down to a simmer. The pot can simmer for several hours, but you have to add more water as needed (about every hour-and-a-half). 

Below are two of my abuelita’s go-to simmer pot recipes.

• 1 large apple, sliced
• 1 large orange, sliced
• 4 cinnamon sticks
• 2 teaspoons of Mexican vanilla extract
• 1-2 tablespoons of whole cloves
• 3 star anise
• 4 tablespoons of crushed piloncillo

What results is a warm, spiced cider scent. Sometimes I drain the remaining liquid and store it to use as tea concentrate, diluting it a bit with water and then heating it up to sip on.

• 1/2 cup coffee beans
• 1 large orange, sliced
• 2 teaspoons of Mexican vanilla extract
• 4 tablespoons of crushed piloncillo
• 2-3 tablespoons of whole cloves
• 4 cinnamon sticks

This simmer pot recipe is my personal favorite, and I am of the opinion that it’s the ultimate fall scent. It’s like walking into a coffee shop or having just baked a spiced rum coffee cake. This olla aromática is a lot stronger and more decadent than the former. 

Some things worth noting: Mexican vanilla has a more complex, spiced, woody profile, but you can use whatever vanilla extract you have on hand. Piloncillo is a solid form of unrefined cane sugar that is usually sold in a cone, and then crushed. It has a rich, molasses-like scent with notes of smoke, earthiness, and caramel. But you can substitute brown sugar for it. You can also repurpose coffee grounds instead of using fresh coffee beans.

The beauty of an olla aromática is that you can experiment and come up with your own favorite recipes. I’ve never been disappointed by any combination I’ve tried. In my experience, no candle, no matter how high-end, comes close to the warmth and complexity of an olla aromática. As the ingredients steep, the scent evolves; it deepens and becomes richer, toastier, and more layered. The aroma doesn’t just sit in the air — it settles in and lingers, and lasts long after the pot has cooled. Additionally, a simmer pot lacks the harsh toxins and allergens found in many scented candles and freshener sprays. 

There’s something uniquely autumnal about the ingredients themselves that no artificial fragrance can compare with — the sharp spice of cloves, the fresh coffee, the caramel notes of the piloncillo, the warm cinnamon, the woody, creamy vanilla. And because an olla aromática is made from real ingredients, the smell is never cloying. Another cozy bonus: While the simmer pot fills the air with a cozy fragrance, it also gently warms the space. 

For me, it isn’t just about the scent — it’s also about the ritual. There’s something meditative about slicing the fruit, measuring out the ingredients, watching the pot slowly bubble, checking on it, and adding more water as needed. This hands-on act of coziness makes me feel close to my mom and grandma. I feel a warmth thinking of how the tradition has been passed on from generation to generation. 

When I make an olla aromática, I can see my abuelita with her apron tied in the kitchen and remember all the stories she shared with me as her pot simmered. I can smell the exact scent that was in the air during our family movie nights, or the evenings setting up our ofrenda for Día de los Muertos. My go-to fall scent is a simmering pot of memories.

Each olla aromática I make reminds of family and home. As I let it simmer, I’m reminded of the people who love me, of where I belong, and the fact that I’m never alone.