My Weird Winter Thing: That Bourbon Vanilla Tallow Balm

Okay so it’s like 9 PM and my face feels like it’s made of sandpaper. The heater’s been blasting all day and it sounds like a dying animal. I’m sitting here in these stupid fleece pajama pants I got from Target like three years ago, the ones with the little penguins, and my skin is just… tight. You know that feeling. Like if you smile too wide something might crack. Anyway, I was scrolling through my phone and saw the little jar of this whipped tallow balm on my nightstand. The bourbon vanilla one. I got it on a whim from this Etsy shop because my hands were a disaster zone in November and nothing was working. Not the fancy lotion, not the drugstore stuff in the big pump bottle. So I figured, why not try beef fat. Sounds gross, right? That’s what I thought.

But here I am, reaching for it again. My tallow balm routine is basically just me being desperate and then remembering this thing exists.

How This Beef Tallow Stuff Ended Up on My Face

Look, I didn’t start with my face. No way. I started with my knuckles. They were so bad they’d bleed sometimes when I made a fist. It was brutal. So when this jar showed up, I just dug a little out and smushed it into my hands. The texture was weird. Not bad weird. It’s whipped, so it’s like… thick cloud? I don’t know. It’s from France, apparently. Made from grass-fed beef suet. Which sounds like something you’d cook with, not put on your skin. But the science-ish thing is that it mimics human skin sebum. So it absorbs deep instead of just sitting on top. My hands soaked it up in like, a minute. No greasy keyboard residue. That was the first win.

The smell is… okay it’s not “faintly” anything. It smells like vanilla. But not like a candle or cheap ice cream. More like if you walked past a bakery really early in the morning. Warm. Cozy. It doesn’t scream BOURBON at you, which I’m kinda glad about. Just a comforting, classic vanilla smell. It’s stress-reducing because it just smells nice and normal, not like a chemical experiment.

So after my hands stopped looking like a lizard’s, I got brave. One night, after I washed my face, it felt so stripped and sad. I had this moment. I was like, it worked on the disaster knuckles, what’s the worst that could happen? I took a tiny bit, maybe half a pea size, rubbed it between my fingers to warm it up, and just patted it on my cheeks and forehead. I was fully expecting to wake up with a face full of new friends. Zits, I mean.

I didn’t.

What I Actually Do With It Now

My daily skincare with tallow is not fancy. I don’t have ten steps. I’m not that person. In the morning, I just rinse my face with water. Sometimes if I’m feeling dry—which is always now, it’s winter—I’ll take the tiniest dab of the balm. I mean tiny. Like, barely there. I press it into the spots that get ashy: around my nose, between my eyebrows. It sort of melts in. Then I can put sunscreen over it if I’m going out. Doesn’t pill up or anything.

But the real thing is at night. That’s the main event. After I wash my face—I use that basic Cerave hydrating cleanser—I let my face dry. Not all the way. While it’s still a little damp. Then I grab the jar. I scoop out a bit more than the morning, maybe a full pea size. I rub my fingertips together until it gets oily, then I just press and pat it all over. Neck too. My neck gets so dry it’s embarrassing. I spend maybe 30 seconds massaging it in. Not really for “lymphatic drainage” or whatever, just because it feels nice and my neck hurts from the chair I was sitting in all day.

And then I just… go to bed. I don’t feel it on my skin after a few minutes. It’s just gone. Absorbed. My pillowcase doesn’t get greasy. It’s wild.

Oh, and my lips. I forgot. If I wake up and my lips are chapped, I’ll put a little on them. Tallow balm for chapped lips is a game-changer. It stays put better than waxy chapstick. Tastes like nothing, which is good.

The Weird Part Is It Just… Works

I was so skeptical. Beef fat? For my psoriasis patches? For my face? It sounds like something your great-grandmother might have used in 1922. But I’m on my second jar now. I ordered another one before I even ran out because I got scared of being without it. That’s the real review, I guess.

My skin after a few weeks is just… calmer. The tight, itchy feeling is gone. Those rough patches on my elbows? Smooth. Not “baby soft” or whatever, just normal. Like skin is supposed to be. I don’t have that compulsive need to moisturize every five minutes. It’s just settled. I told my mom about it, who has way worse rough hands than I did, and she rolled her eyes until I gave her my first jar to try. Now she asks me for the Etsy link.

It’s not magic. It doesn’t make you look 22 again. But it fixes the basic problem of dry, angry skin. It feels like it’s helping your skin fix itself instead of just covering up the problem. How to use tallow balm isn’t complicated. You just use it. When you’re dry. Where you’re dry.

Sorry, my cat just jumped on the keyboard. Weirdo.

Anyway. The point is, it’s become a regular thing. Like brushing my teeth. It sits there next to my bed, this little jar of whipped beef tallow that smells like a bakery. And I use it every night. Because it works better than the $70 cream I bought last year that did absolutely nothing. The irony is not lost on me.

Quick Questions I Get Asked

Is beef tallow good for your face? Yeah, surprisingly. The whole "mimics skin sebum" thing seems legit. It’s like giving your skin back something similar to what it already makes, so it absorbs deep and doesn’t just clog the surface. My face has been happier since I started.

Does tallow balm clog pores? Hasn’t for me. And my skin can get clogged easy. I think because it absorbs so well, it doesn’t just sit there and block things up. It’s the opposite of greasy. It’s more like… it disappears.

What does bourbon vanilla tallow balm smell like? Just nice vanilla. Not super sweet, not artificial. Warm and cozy. Like a vanilla bean, not a vanilla cupcake with sprinkles. It’s subtle but you can smell it. It’s the best part of the whole routine, honestly.

So yeah. If your skin is throwing a fit this winter, or your hands are cracked, or you’re just curious about this whole tallow skincare thing… might be worth a shot. I didn’t expect to like it. But I do. I’m probably gonna order another one soon.