There’s a jug of pale green water sitting on my kitchen bench right now, and I’ve topped it up three times since Saturday. The cucumber ribbons have gone slightly translucent at the edges, the lime wheels are bleeding a bit of colour into the water, and a few mint leaves have gone dark from sitting in there too long. It’s the least glamorous thing I’ve made all week. It’s also the thing I keep going back to when the Sydney humidity gets that thick, sticky feeling and plain water from the tap just doesn’t cut it.
Cucumber and lime spa water isn’t really a recipe in the way a baked oat or a braise is a recipe. There’s no cooking, no technique to get wrong in the way you can overcook a piece of fish. But there is a ratio that works and a steeping time that matters, and most versions I’ve had at cafes and day spas around town get both slightly off. Too much lime and it turns sharp and a bit medicinal. Too long in the fridge and the cucumber goes soft and starts tasting faintly of its own skin, which nobody wants.
Why cucumber and lime actually work together
Cucumber is somewhere around 95 to 96 percent water, which is why it barely has a flavour of its own until you get it cold and let it sit. What it does have is a very faint green, almost melon-like note that comes through once the water’s had time to draw it out. Lime brings acidity and a bit of oil from the skin if you slice it with the peel on, which lifts the whole thing without making it taste like cordial. Together they land somewhere clean and slightly savoury, not sweet, which is exactly what you want on a hot afternoon when a sugary drink is the last thing your body’s asking for.
Healthdirect’s hydration guidance is pretty blunt about it: plain water is still the best way to stay hydrated, and flavoured water like this is really just a way of making that easier to drink more of. I’d add that the visual matters too. A jug of cucumber and lime looks like something worth drinking, in a way a glass of tap water from the same bench never quite does.
Ingredients
- 1 Lebanese cucumber, washed, unpeeled
- 1 lime, washed
- 1.5 litres cold filtered water
- 6 to 8 mint leaves, bruised slightly between your fingers
- Ice, for serving
- Optional: 2 to 3 thin slices of fresh chilli, seeds left in or out depending on your nerve
Method
- Slice the cucumber into rounds about 3mm thick, or into long ribbons with a vegetable peeler if you want something that looks a bit more considered on the table.
- Slice the lime into thin wheels, leaving the skin on. The oil in the peel does a lot of the flavour work here.
- Put the cucumber and lime into a 1.5 to 2 litre jug and add the bruised mint leaves. Bruising just means pressing them lightly between your fingers so the oils release, not shredding them to bits.
- Pour over the cold filtered water, cover, and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, ideally closer to 4.
- Taste before serving. If it’s too subtle for you, add another few lime slices and give it another 30 minutes.
- Serve over ice in tall glasses, spooning in a few pieces of the cucumber and lime from the jug so people get some texture along with the drink.
Serves 4 to 6, depending on how thirsty everyone is.
Getting the steeping time right
This is the bit that separates a good jug from a limp, watery one. Under two hours and the cucumber hasn’t given up much of its flavour yet, so the water just tastes like slightly cold nothing. Past about eight hours, especially if the jug’s been sitting at room temperature at any point, the cucumber starts to soften and the whole thing takes on a faintly bitter, vegetal edge that I don’t love. My sweet spot is 3 to 4 hours in the fridge, then I strain out about half the cucumber and top the jug up with a fresh handful of slices before serving, so there’s always something crisp in the glass rather than everything gone soft at once.
A mint and chilli variation from the balcony
My balcony chilli plants are doing that thing in late spring where they go from a handful of sad, sulking leaves to more chillies than I know what to do with, almost overnight. One of the things I do with the overflow is slice a couple of thin rounds, seeds and all if I’m feeling brave, and drop them into the jug alongside the mint. It doesn’t make the water properly hot, more like a faint warmth that shows up a second or two after the cucumber and lime, right at the back of the throat. It’s a small thing but it changes the character of the drink completely, and it’s a nice one to have up your sleeve if you’re serving people who find plain spa water a bit boring.
A serving idea for when people are actually coming over
If I’m having people over on a Saturday, I’ll make a double batch in a big glass drink dispenser rather than a jug, mostly because it looks better sitting out for a few hours and nobody has to keep asking someone to pour. I’ll do one straight cucumber and lime version and one with the chilli and mint, side by side, so people can choose. It’s a nice thing to put out alongside something like the ultimate green juice if you’ve got a proper juicing session planned, or just on its own next to a platter when the weather’s too warm for anyone to want tea or coffee.
When I’d skip this and reach for something else
I’ll be honest, cucumber and lime spa water isn’t going to replace a proper juice when what you actually want is something with more going on nutritionally. If I’m after that, I’m making the beetroot and apple juice or the summer cleansing juice instead, both of which have a lot more to them. Spa water is really just a nicer way to drink plain water, and I think some cafes charge a bit cheekily for what’s essentially cucumber peelings and a squeeze of lime in a jug. Making it at home costs almost nothing and takes about four minutes of actual hands-on time, so I’d save the cafe version for when you’re out and about, not as something worth going out of your way for.
Where this does earn its place is on the days when you’re trying to drink more water generally and plain water from the tap just isn’t happening. That’s something the Eat For Health guidelines touch on too, that most of us could stand to drink a bit more, particularly through a Sydney summer. If a jug of something that tastes faintly of cucumber and lime gets you there a bit more easily, that’s a fair trade for four minutes of slicing. It’s also a good one to have going if you’re trying to keep healthy habits going while travelling, since most hotel rooms have a jug and a fridge, even if they don’t have much else.
The jug on my bench will be empty by tonight, and I’ll make another one before bed so it’s ready by the time I’m up. That’s really the whole method. Slice, steep, wait, drink.
– Mei Lin, Golden Door Living kitchen
