My Weirdly Good Experience with the Pear Tallow Balm

Okay so my skin is a disaster. Not like, medical emergency disaster, but the kind of dry that feels like a punishment. It’s winter, the heat’s blasting, and my face decided to become a flaky, tight, itchy map of regret. I’m talking elbows like sandpaper, knuckles with little cracks that sting when you wash your hands, and this weird patch on my cheek that just looks perpetually thirsty. I was using this expensive cream from the mall, the one in the fancy jar that costs more than my electric bill. It smelled like a perfume counter and did absolutely nothing. My skin drank it up in five seconds and went right back to being a desert. I was desperate. I was scrolling on my phone at like 11 PM, wearing these old socks with holes in them, and I kept seeing stuff about beef tallow for skin. Beef fat. On your face. I mean, come on. It sounded like something my great-grandmother would have used before they invented, you know, moisturizer. But the comments were all people saying it was the best natural moisturizer for dry skin they’d ever tried. I was skeptical. So skeptical. But my fancy cream was just a shiny, expensive paperweight at that point. So I figured, what’s the worst that could happen? I ordered the Whipped Tallow Balm in Pear from this little Etsy shop. A tallow balm for dry, winter-wrecked skin. Here’s what actually happened.

How Beef Tallow for Skin Even Became a Thing I Tried

Look, I had to look this up because I’m not a scientist. I was sitting there, waiting for the package, wondering if I’d just ordered a tiny tub of cooking grease. From what I gathered—and I’m paraphrasing heavily here—beef tallow from grass-fed cows is kinda similar to the oils our own skin makes. Our sebum, or whatever. So the idea is it doesn’t just sit on top like a greasy film; it actually gets in there and tells your skin it can chill out on the whole panic-producing-oil thing. It’s supposed to be good for eczema and super dry patches. I have a friend with eczema who swore by some medical cream that smelled like a hospital, so the idea of a natural moisturizer for dry, sensitive skin that was just… one ingredient… was weirdly appealing. It’s made in France, which made it feel slightly less like I was rubbing steak on my face. Slightly. When it arrived, the box was small. I opened it in my kitchen, the overhead light was way too bright. The jar itself was simple. I unscrewed the lid.

What This Pear Tallow Balm Actually Smells and Feels Like

I braced myself for a barnyard. Or raw meat. Or something gross. It wasn’t that. It smelled… nice? Like a pear. But not a candy pear or a super strong, fake pear. It was soft. A subtle sweetness, I guess you could say. It just smelled clean and a little fruity, but in a gentle way. Nothing overpowering. The texture was the real surprise. I was expecting hard wax or grease. This was whipped. Like, cloud fluffy. I poked it with my finger and it was cool and dense but super soft. I scooped a tiny bit—about the size of a pea—and rubbed it between my palms. It melted immediately. Not oily, but like it became a silky layer. I don’t know how else to describe it. It just vanished into my skin. I put it on my face before bed, half expecting to wake up looking like I’d slept in a frying pan.

My Skin After Using This Stuff For a Few Weeks

I didn’t wake up transformed. Let’s be real. But I did wake up and my face didn’t feel like it was going to crack when I smiled. That was new. So I kept using it. Just at night. After a few days, I noticed the tightness was just… gone. The flaky patch on my cheek smoothed out. My elbows, which I’d basically given up on, started to feel human again. I started using it on my hands after washing dishes. The little cracks on my knuckles healed. I know this sounds like an ad, but I swear I’m just a person typing this on my couch with one dog asleep on my feet. The best tallow for my particular concern—which was that awful winter dryness that makes your skin feel brittle—just turned out to be this simple whipped balm. It doesn’t fix everything. I still get a zit sometimes. But the painful, dry, irritated feeling? Gone. My skin just feels normal. Hydrated. Not greasy, not tight. Just… fine. I even used it on my lips once when my chapstick was MIA. Worked better.

Would I Buy This Tallow Balm Again?

Yeah. I already did. I’m on my second jar. I got one for my mom too because she has the same Sahara-desert-in-winter skin situation and she called me last week like “what is this magic butter?” I told her it’s beef fat and she was quiet for a second. Then she said her hands hadn’t felt that good in years. So. There you go. I found the Etsy shop totally by accident, but I’m glad I did. It’s not a miracle in a jar, but it’s the closest thing I’ve found for just making my skin stop freaking out. It’s simple. It works. I don’t have a ten-step routine. I just have this little jar on my nightstand.

Quick Questions I Get Asked

Is beef tallow good for your face? Seems to be, for me anyway. From what I understand, because it’s similar to our skin’s own oils, it absorbs really well and doesn’t just clog stuff up. It’s like giving your skin something it already knows how to use.

Does tallow balm clog pores? I was worried about this. My skin can get clogged easy. But this stuff melts right in. It’s not pore-clogging for me at all. It’s not like putting Vaseline on your face. It just sinks in and does its thing.

What does the Pear tallow balm smell like? It’s a light, fresh smell. Like a real pear, but not super sweet. It’s not a perfume-y smell, it’s just a nice, gentle scent that fades pretty quick after you put it on. It’s not strong at all.

Anyway. If your skin is feeling angry and dry and nothing else is cutting it, maybe give a tallow balm a shot. I thought it was the weirdest thing ever. Now it’s just the thing that works. My skin’s happy, I’m not scratching my face off, and that’s enough for me.