My Honest Take on Pear Tallow Balm: What Actually Happened to My Skin

Okay so. I was just sitting here, my hands were like sandpaper. Like, actual sandpaper. It’s winter, my heater’s making that weird clicking noise it does, and my knuckles were so dry they looked cracked. I’d been using this fancy lotion from the drugstore, the one in the blue bottle everyone talks about. Cetaphil? No, CeraVe. The big tub. It was fine for a while, I guess. But then it just… stopped. My skin drank it up and five minutes later it was thirsty again. It felt like putting water on a rock. Just sat there. Then it’d get all tight and weird by noon. I was so annoyed. I spent like, $18 on that tub. And then my sister, who’s into all the crunchy stuff, was like “you should try tallow.” Beef tallow. For your face. I was like, you’re joking. Fat? From a cow? On my… face? It sounded like something my great-grandma would have used before they invented real stuff.

But my hands were so bad. I was desperate. So I looked it up. Found this little Etsy shop. They had a whipped tallow balm, pear scent. I figured if I was gonna rub beef fat on myself, it should at least smell like something nice. So I got it. The Whipped Tallow Balm in Pear. It came in this little jar. I opened it and was like… huh.

How I Ended Up Putting Beef Fat on My Face

Look, I’m not a skincare person. My routine was splash water, maybe that CeraVe stuff if I remembered, done. But this winter wrecked me. My cheeks were flaky. My elbows were a disaster. It was embarrassing. So the tallow thing was a last resort. I read a bit while I waited for it to ship. Apparently beef tallow, like from grass-fed cows, is weirdly similar to the oils our own skin makes. Our sebum. So it absorbs way better than mineral oil or whatever’s in the store stuff. It’s not just sitting on top pretending to work. It actually goes in. Good for super dry skin, eczema, all that. I don’t have eczema but my skin was definitely throwing a fit.

The jar showed up on a Tuesday. It was cold. The balm inside was firm. I poked it. It was… hard? I scooped a tiny bit. Rubbed it between my fingers. It melted immediately. Like, instantly became this silky oil. Not greasy. Just… soft. I put it on the back of my hand. It was cold for a second, then it was just gone. Absorbed. No residue. My skin looked normal, not shiny. Just… calm. I was shocked. I thought it’d be like rubbing bacon grease on myself. It wasn’t. It was nothing. But my skin felt… quiet. I don’t know how else to say it.

What This Pear Tallow Balm Actually Does

So the smell. It says “subtle sweetness” and “light and fresh.” I was worried it’d smell like fake pear candy. It doesn’t. It’s like if you walked past a pear tree on a cold day. Not sugary. Just a clean, faint fruit smell. It’s there when you open the jar, then it fades pretty fast once it’s on your skin. Which I like. I don’t want to smell like a fruit salad all day.

The texture is the weird part. In the jar it’s solid, like cold butter. You scoop it out, it’s waxy. Then the heat from your fingers turns it into this luxurious oil. They whip it, which I guess makes it fluffy and easier to use. It’s made in France, which feels fancy for something made from cow fat. But whatever. The process works.

I started using it at night. After I washed my face. Just a tiny dab, warmed up, patted on. The first thing I noticed was it didn’t sting. My skin was so dry that even my gentle cleanser would make it feel tight and angry. This? Nothing. It just sank in. I woke up and my face wasn’t an oil slick, which is what I expected. It was just… balanced. Not oily, not dry. Just normal. My flaky patches were smoother. Not gone, but better.

Then I got brave and used it on my hands. The sandpaper knuckles. This was the real test. I slathered it on before bed. Woke up, and the cracks were less… angry. They were still there, but they looked hydrated, not like they were about to split open. After three days, they were basically healed. I’m not kidding. My CeraVe tub never did that. It just managed the problem. This stuff fixed it.

My Skin After a Few Weeks of Tallow

I’ve been using it for maybe a month now. I’m almost through the jar, which is saying something because you need so little. My nighttime routine is just this now. Wash face, tallow balm, done. My skin hasn’t felt this normal in years. Maybe ever. It’s not “glowing” or whatever they say in ads. It’s just not causing problems anymore. No tightness. No random dry patches by my eyebrows. No midday itchiness on my cheeks.

I used it on my elbows too. They were legitimately rough. Like, could-snag-a-sweater rough. Now they’re… smooth. Not baby smooth, but human-elbow smooth. It’s wild.

The big difference between this tallow balm and regular store products? The store stuff feels like it’s doing something when you put it on. It’s thick, it’s creamy, it sits there. You feel moisturized. But it’s a lie. It washes off or evaporates. The tallow doesn’t feel like much going on. It disappears. But the results stay. It’s like it gives your skin what it actually needs to fix itself, instead of just putting a temporary blanket over the issue. Natural vs commercial skincare, I guess. One is a cover-up. The other is… building materials.

Oh, and I got one for my mom. She has psoriasis on her hands. She was skeptical too. Now she texts me about it. “My spots are less red.” That’s huge for her.

Would I Buy This Pear Tallow Balm Again?

Yeah. I already did. I ordered a second jar last week. The Etsy shop was easy to deal with, it shipped fast. No complaints.

It’s not magic. It won’t make you look 20 again. But if your skin is dry, or sensitive, or just pissed off at the weather and every product you try, this might be the thing. It’s simple. One ingredient, basically. Grass-fed beef tallow, whipped, with a bit of pear essential oil for scent. That’s it. No crazy chemical list I can’t pronounce. No fragrance cocktails. Just… fat. But the good kind.

I sound like a convert. I guess I am. After years of buying different lotions and creams, all promising miracles, the thing that worked was the oldest ingredient in the book. Animal fat. Who knew.

Anyway. If you’re curious about tallow skincare, or you’re sick of your current moisturizer not cutting it, this might be worth a shot. The pear scent is nice. Not overpowering. Just a little something. It’s the best natural moisturizer I’ve found, mostly because it actually moisturizes. Deeply. Not just on the surface.

My hands are fine now. It’s a weird thing to be happy about, but I am.

Quick Questions I Get Asked

Is beef tallow good for your face? Yeah, surprisingly. Because it’s so similar to our skin’s own oils, it absorbs really well and doesn’t just clog stuff up. It’s like giving your skin back what it’s lost. Sounds weird, works great.

Does tallow balm clog pores? Not for me, and I can get clogged pores pretty easy. It absorbs so completely that it doesn’t sit on top and cause problems. It’s non-comedogenic, which means it shouldn’t clog pores. Always patch test though, everyone’s different.

What does the pear tallow balm smell like? It’s a light, fresh pear smell. Not like candy. More like the actual fruit, but subtle. It’s not strong and it fades pretty quickly after you apply it, which I prefer.

So yeah. That’s my tallow balm review. My skin’s happy, I’m happy. For now, I’m sticking with it.