The ultimate guide to cloves: The benefits, uses, and common mistakes
Cloves are a versatile spice known for their distinctive, warm flavor and numerous health-promoting properties. Commonly used in Indian cuisine, they are also valued in traditional medicine for their rich content of antioxidants, vitamins, and minerals. When consumed in moderation, cloves can be a powerful addition to a balanced diet.
Derived from the dried flower buds of the clove tree (Syzygium aromaticum), an evergreen native to the Maluku Islands, cloves are now primarily grown in India and Madagascar. Beyond their culinary use, they serve as the source of clove essential oil—a potent extract valued for its antibacterial, antifungal, and antioxidant effects.
Health Benefits of Cloves
- Eases Dental Pain and Prevents Gum Disease: Cloves contain eugenol, a natural compound with strong antibacterial and analgesic properties. It helps fight plaque, cavities, and gum inflammation. Applying diluted clove oil or rinsing with a clove-based solution can provide temporary relief from toothaches. However, it is not a substitute for professional dental treatment and should only be used for short-term comfort.
- Helps Lower Blood Sugar: Research suggests that cloves may support better blood sugar regulation by improving insulin function. Adding them to your meals can be beneficial for metabolic health, but they should never replace prescribed diabetes medication.
- Supports Healthy Blood Pressure and Circulation: Cloves may help relax blood vessels and reduce inflammation, which can contribute to lower blood pressure and improved cardiovascular function. Including them in food or using clove oil for aromatherapy may offer gentle support for heart health.
- Relieves Itchy or Irritated Skin: Traditionally, diluted clove oil has been applied to ease itching and mild skin irritation. Mix a few drops of clove oil with a carrier oil, such as coconut or olive oil, before applying to the skin. Always perform a patch test first and consult a healthcare professional if you have sensitive skin or pre-existing conditions.
- Improves Breathing and Clears Airways: Inhaling steam infused with cloves can help open airways and soothe the throat, especially after a cold. Add a few cloves to hot (not boiling) water, cover your head with a towel, and breathe the steam gently.
- May Support Weight Management: Cloves contain bioactive compounds like eugenol that can modestly boost metabolism and digestion. While they are not a magic solution for weight loss, incorporating them into a balanced diet—along with regular exercise and sufficient rest—can support healthy weight goals.
Common Mistakes When Using Cloves
- Storing Them Improperly: Cloves lose their flavor and potency when exposed to heat, light, or moisture. Store them in airtight glass or ceramic containers, kept in a cool, dry place away from direct sunlight.
- Overusing Cloves: A small amount goes a long way. One or two cloves per day is generally safe. Excessive consumption can upset the stomach and stress the liver due to high eugenol content. Moderation is key.
- Mixing Cloves with Diabetes Medication: Because cloves can lower blood sugar levels, combining them with insulin or metformin can cause hypoglycemia. Symptoms include dizziness, weakness, or confusion. Always check with your doctor before combining natural remedies with medication.
- Relying on Cloves Instead of Dental Care: Cloves can temporarily relieve toothache but do not treat the root cause. Ignoring professional dental treatment may lead to more serious complications.
- Misusing Clove Essential Oil: Clove oil is highly concentrated—just one drop equals several whole cloves. Applying it undiluted can burn the skin or gums. Always dilute it with a carrier oil, and never consume clove essential oil directly.
How to Use Cloves Safely
1. Clove Tea
Ingredients:
- 1 cup boiling water
- 3–4 whole cloves
- Optional: cinnamon stick, lemon slice, or honey
- Steep the cloves in hot water for 5–10 minutes. Strain and drink warm. This tea can help ease sore throats, aid digestion, and provide comfort during cold seasons.
2. Diluted Clove Oil (for Oral or Topical Use)
Mix 1–2 drops of food-grade clove oil with 1 teaspoon of a carrier oil such as coconut or olive oil.
- Toothache relief
- Minor skin irritation (after a patch test)
- Natural cleaning spray (antimicrobial properties)
- Never use undiluted clove oil directly on skin or teeth.
3. Homemade Mouthwash
Ingredients:
- 1 cup water
- 1 teaspoon baking soda
- 1–2 drops clove oil
- 1 drop tea tree oil
- Mix well and swish in your mouth for 30 seconds before spitting out. This simple rinse helps freshen breath and supports oral hygiene.
Safety and Precautions
Cloves are generally safe in culinary amounts, but excessive or improper use can cause side effects. Always consult a doctor before using cloves therapeutically, especially if you are pregnant, breastfeeding, taking medication, or managing chronic health conditions.
Disclaimer
This article is for informational purposes only and should not replace professional medical advice. Always consult your healthcare provider before using clove oil or supplements for health purposes.
My BIL Borrowed Money from Us for 11 Years – When My Husband Asked for It Back, He Handed Us a Folder Marked ‘Paid in Full’
For eleven years, I believed my brother-in-law had lied every time he promised to repay us. Then one unexpected discovery inside his home destroyed everything I thought I knew and made me wonder whether we had judged him too quickly.
The last thing I expected to uncover in Pete’s house was proof that we had been wrong about him for more than a decade.
Sometimes his car needed urgent repairs.
Sometimes he had fallen behind on the mortgage.
Other times it was a medical expense, a plumbing disaster, or another emergency that somehow could not wait until his next paycheck.
Every request sounded desperate.
Every promise sounded genuine.
“I’ll pay you back as soon as I’m back on my feet.”
George always believed him.
My husband had a generous heart, especially where family was concerned.
At first, I agreed.
We had both been taught that family members helped one another.
But after several years, I stopped believing Pete’s problems were temporary.
Whenever George mentioned repayment, his brother produced another reason he could not manage it yet.
Weeks became months.
Months became years.
George kept a small notebook inside his bedside drawer.
He recorded every loan with the date and amount.
One evening, I found him turning through its pages.
“You still keep track?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Why? We both know we’re never seeing that money again.”
He sighed and closed the notebook.
“It isn’t really about the money anymore.”
“What is it about?”
“A promise.”
The answer hurt.
Pete had not only failed to repay a debt.
He had broken his brother’s trust.
Oddly, neither of us ever discussed the loans with Nancy, Pete’s wife.
She was among the kindest women I had ever met.
At family dinners, she always made certain everyone else had enough food before sitting down herself.
I often wondered whether she even knew how frequently her husband borrowed from us.
Whenever money came up, Pete quickly changed the subject if Nancy entered the room.
“You think she’s in the dark?” George asked me once.
“I honestly don’t know.”
Neither of us wanted finances to become the reason our families separated.
Eventually, we stopped asking.
We accepted that the money was gone.
Then one Friday evening, Pete called.
George answered while I folded laundry.
After only a few seconds, he looked toward me.
“It’s Pete.”
His brother rarely called unless another problem had appeared.
Before either of us could react, Pete added quietly, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to settle.”
My hands stopped over the towels.
George raised his eyebrows at me.
When the call ended, we remained silent for several moments.
Then George smiled for the first time in weeks.
“Maybe he’s finally ready.”
“For what?”
“To pay us back.”
For the first time in years, we genuinely believed our money might be returned.
The following evening, we drove to their home carrying a bottle of wine.
Nancy welcomed us with her usual warmth.
“I’m so glad you came.”
Her embrace lasted slightly longer than normal.
“You look tired,” I whispered.
“I haven’t been sleeping very well,” she admitted before forcing another smile.
Dinner felt strangely ordinary.
Roast chicken.
Mashed potatoes.
Fresh green beans.
Nancy had prepared everything herself.
Anyone watching would have assumed we were simply four relatives enjoying a pleasant meal.
But small details kept catching my attention.
Nancy seemed distracted.
Several times, I saw her studying Pete with an expression I could not identify.
Concern.
Sadness.
Perhaps guilt.
“I’ll make coffee,” she said softly before disappearing into the kitchen.
She returned and placed cups before us without saying much.
Dessert plates still remained on the table when George finally leaned forward.
“So…”
Pete looked up.
Pete slowly nodded. “There is.”
He folded his napkin carefully.
Then he met George’s eyes.
“George… I’ve paid my debt.”
George blinked.
Then he laughed.
“I said I’ve finally paid my debt.”
Pete inhaled slowly.
“Paid in full.”
Silence filled the dining room.
Eventually, George shook his head.
“You haven’t paid back a single cent.”
“Then explain it.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
George frowned.
Pete lowered his gaze.
“I can’t.”
George pushed his chair away from the table.
“You invite us over, tell me something that makes absolutely no sense, and then expect me to wait?”
“I know how it sounds.”
“It sounds like another excuse.”
Pete looked genuinely wounded.
George laughed bitterly.
“Trust is exactly what you’ve spent 11 years destroying.”
Nancy placed one hand gently on her husband’s shoulder.
Pete covered it with his own but remained silent.
Tears gathered in Nancy’s eyes.
She quickly turned away.
Neither brother spoke again before we left.
The drive home was painfully quiet.
Eventually, I asked, “What do you think he meant?”
George kept his eyes fixed on the road.
“I have no idea.”
“You don’t believe him.”
“No.”
His grip tightened around the steering wheel.
“If he had proof, he’d have shown it.”
I could not disagree.
For the following week, neither of us mentioned the dinner.
We barely spoke about Pete at all.
Then one evening, my phone rang.
His voice sounded entirely different.
Broken.
“Angie…”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
A long silence followed.
I could not speak.
Only a week earlier, Nancy had been serving us coffee.
Now she was gone.
The funeral was arranged quickly.
Everyone who had known Nancy came to say goodbye.
After the service, Pete asked George and me to remain for a few minutes.
Once the others had left, he looked completely exhausted.
“I hate asking this.”
George said nothing.
“I don’t have enough money to pay for the funeral.”
Neither of us responded.
Pete named the amount.
It was larger than any sum he had requested before.
My stomach sank.
Part of me wanted to refuse.
Another part could not imagine denying a man on the day he buried his wife.
George closed his eyes.
Then he asked quietly, “When do you need it?”
He looked toward me.
I gave the smallest nod.
Neither of us wanted to lend Pete another dollar.
But how could we refuse someone who had just lost the person he loved?
So we gave him the money.
A week after the funeral, Pete called again.
The following afternoon, we drove to his house.
He had not returned yet.
“I have to meet with the solicitor,” he explained over the phone.
“The key’s under the flowerpot.”
We let ourselves inside.
I began collecting a few keepsakes for George.
Then he suddenly stopped in the hallway.
“That’s strange,” he murmured.
“What is?”
“I’ve never seen that room open before.”
One door stood slightly ajar.
Beyond it was a home office.
Designer furniture.
Floor-to-ceiling walnut shelves.
A massive mahogany desk.
Original artwork covering the walls.
I stared in disbelief.
How could someone who claimed he could not repay a debt maintain a room like this?
George’s jaw tightened.
Without speaking, he walked inside.
Most drawers contained ordinary records.
Bills.
Insurance documents.
Bank statements.
Then we found a black binder.
Across its cover, written in marker, was one word.
George.
I looked at my husband.
“Should we?”
He did not answer.
He simply opened it.
“What?” I whispered.
George said nothing.
I moved beside him.
At the top of the first page was a date from eleven years earlier.
His face became completely pale.
Then he turned the page.
It was not a bank record or legal agreement.
It was a handwritten letter.
Across the top, in neat handwriting, were the words:
“For George. If you’re reading this, then it’s finally time for you to know the truth.”
I looked at him.
His hands began trembling as he continued.
“George, I know this binder will probably make you angry before it makes sense. I only ask that you read every page before you decide what to think of me.”
“Eleven years ago, when Nancy became ill, I borrowed money because I truly had no other choice. Every dollar you lent us helped pay for her treatment.”
“I promised I’d pay you back. I meant it every single time I said those words.”
Behind the letter sat a copy of the first check George had ever written to his brother.
The amount matched the opening entry in the notebook inside our bedroom drawer.
Next to it was another column marked Investment Fund Deposit.
The amount was far smaller.
Only seventy-five dollars.
Then fifty.
Then one hundred twenty.
I frowned.
“What is this?”
George continued turning pages.
Beneath each loan were dozens of smaller deposits.
Sometimes twenty dollars.
Sometimes three hundred.
Occasionally months passed without a contribution.
But the deposits always resumed.
Every payment had gone into the same long-term investment account.
Nancy had written comments throughout the margins.
“Sold my old jewellery today. Another $180 into the fund.”
“Skipped our anniversary trip. George comes first.”
“Tax refund arrived. Straight into the investment.”
“Finally had a better month. We can add a little extra.”
By the eighth year, the deposits were arriving almost every month.
Tears stung my eyes.
“They never stopped,” I whispered.
George shook his head.
“No.”
He kept reading.
The account had been established eleven years earlier.
Every contribution appeared there.
Every dividend.
Every year of growth.
Attached near the front was a recent valuation.
One sentence at the bottom had been highlighted in yellow.
George frowned.
“That’s…”
I glanced at the wall calendar.
“Today.”
Pete had included one final note.
“George, yesterday I checked the final valuation. The investment has matured. It is finally worth more than everything I ever borrowed from you, including the interest I calculated myself. That’s why I told you my debt had already been paid in full.”
“I wasn’t guessing. I already knew the money was there.”
For eleven years, we had believed Pete was making no effort.
The reality was almost impossible to absorb.
He had been trying every month.
The front door opened.
Pete entered carrying a small box.
When he saw us holding the binder, he stopped.
George stared at him.
“You were saving all this time?”
Pete nodded.
“I had to.”
“You could have told me.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Pete looked toward the office window before replying.
“Because I was ashamed.”
He walked over and rested a hand against the chair Nancy had used.
“The first year I honestly believed I’d repay you in months.”
He smiled sadly.
“The treatments became more expensive.”
“We kept falling behind.”
His gaze dropped toward the binder.
“I realised I couldn’t keep making promises I wasn’t able to keep.”
“So I made a different promise.”
“The day I paid you back, I wanted it to be everything.”
“No more excuses.”
“No more partial payments.”
A weak smile appeared.
“Nancy wouldn’t let me miss a single deposit.”
“‘George will understand,’ I’d say.”
He wiped his eyes.
“She always answered the same way: ‘George trusted us.'”
“‘We’re going to honor that trust.'”
Pete opened the small box.
Several folders had been arranged neatly inside.
He removed one and handed it to George.
George opened it.
His eyes moved across the document.
I watched disbelief turn into shock.
At the bottom was the final account balance.
It exceeded the total George had recorded in his notebook.
“The investment performed better than anyone expected,” Pete explained.
“The adviser called me last week.”
“He said after taxes there would still be more than enough to repay every loan.”
He paused.
“And enough to repay the funeral money.”
His breath shook.
“But Nancy deserved the funeral she wanted.”
George slowly closed the folder.
For several moments, neither brother spoke.
“I never imagined Nancy would be gone before I got the chance to show you.”
Silence settled over the office.
George looked again at the binder.
Inside a transparent sleeve was a folded letter addressed to him.
Nancy’s handwriting was instantly recognizable.
George unfolded it carefully.
“Dear George, if you’ve reached this page, then our plan finally worked. You probably spent years believing we’d forgotten what we owed you. Please don’t be angry. Every deposit we made carried your name with it.”
“Whenever we wanted to spend money on ourselves, we asked one question. ‘Have we done right by George yet?’ We always chose the fund.”
“I know you think you only lent your brother money. What you really gave us was 11 more years together. Thank you. Love always, Nancy.”
By the time George finished, tears covered his face.
I had never seen my husband cry before.
He folded the letter quietly.
Then he reached inside his jacket and removed the notebook containing every loan.
Every promise.
Every disappointment.
He studied it for a long moment.
Then, without speaking, he tore out the pages.
One by one.
“I was wrong,” he said quietly.
Pete shook his head.
“You had every reason to think what you did.”
“No.”
George moved toward him.
Pete’s eyes filled with tears.
“I never stopped trying to deserve your trust.”
The brothers embraced.
Neither said another word.
They did not need to.
—
One month later, the funds cleared.
Pete transferred every dollar into our account.
George called him immediately.
“You sent too much.”
Pete laughed quietly.
“No. I sent just right.”
“I can’t take all of this,” George repeated.
“You can. Just take me out for dinner and we’ll call it even,” Pete joked.
George smiled.
“I’ll take you out to dinner as many times as you’d like.”
Some promises require years to fulfill.
And sometimes the greatest mistake is not lending someone money.
It is believing they forgot what they owed when they were quietly honoring the debt all along.
But the real question remains:
If someone damaged your trust for years, only for you to discover they had been working privately to keep their promise the entire time, could you forgive all those years of doubt?
Or would the pain run too deeply to release?
