My Skin Was a Disaster. Then I Tried This Pineapple Tallow Balm.

So my face was just… giving up. This was back in, I don’t know, January? Maybe February. The point is, it was winter and my skin decided to stage a full-on revolt. We’re talking flaky patches that felt like sandpaper, this tightness that made smiling hurt, and a weird red blotch on my left cheek that just wouldn’t quit. I was using this fancy moisturizer from La Roche-Posay that cost like forty bucks and it was doing absolutely nothing. Zero. My skin drank it up and was still thirsty five minutes later. I was desperate. And then I saw someone online talking about beef tallow balm. For your face. I remember sitting there on my couch, one sock on, scrolling and thinking, “Beef fat? You’ve got to be kidding me.” But the person swore by it. Specifically, this whipped tallow balm in Pineapple scent from some little shop. I was skeptical. So, so skeptical. But my regular stuff wasn’t working, so I figured, what’s the worst that could happen?

Anyway, I ordered it. The whole thing felt a little ridiculous, buying a jar of whipped beef fat for my face. But it showed up, this cute little jar from an Etsy shop in France, and I opened it. Smelled like pineapple. Or like a pineapple candy. Something sweet and fruity but not in a gross, fake way. It just smelled cheerful. Like a vacation in a tin. The texture was weird. Not bad weird. It was solid but soft, like cold butter, and when you scoop a bit out it melts from your finger heat. I put a tiny bit on the back of my hand first. Cold at first. Then it just… vanished into my skin. No greasy film. No shiny residue. It was gone, and my skin felt, I don’t know, calm. Not moisturized yet, but calm. Like it had stopped yelling at me for a second.

How I Ended Up Putting Beef Tallow on My Face

Look, I tried everything before this. The La Roche-Posay Lipikar Balm. The CeraVe in the tub. Vaseline slugging, which just made my pillowcase a greasy mess and gave me little whiteheads. My bathroom cabinet looked like a skincare aisle graveyard. Expensive stuff, drugstore stuff, “clean” beauty stuff. Nothing fixed the dry, angry patches. Especially this one spot on my cheekbone that would get so dry it would crack a little. It was painful. So when I kept seeing tallow pop up—this ancient thing people used forever—I got curious. The science, or what I read of it while half-watching a baking show, made a weird kind of sense. Beef tallow from grass-fed cows is supposed to be really similar to the oils our own skin makes. Our sebum. So it absorbs deep instead of sitting on top. It’s not like putting olive oil on your face. It’s more like giving your skin back something it recognizes. That was the theory, anyway. I was willing to be a guinea pig. My foot was asleep when I finally clicked “buy” on the Etsy listing for the Pineapple scented one. I figured if it smelled like summer, maybe it would trick my brain out of winter.

What This Pineapple Tallow Balm Actually Does

The first night, I was nervous. I washed my face, patted it dry, and just stared at the jar. Took a tiny scoop, maybe the size of a pea. Rubbed it between my palms to warm it up. It felt slick for a second, then almost creamy. I pressed it into my face. Not rubbed, pressed. Like everyone says to do. And it soaked in. Fast. My skin felt… quiet. Not instantly plumped or anything magical. Just quiet. Like a deep sigh. I woke up the next morning and my face didn’t feel tight. That was new. The red blotch looked a little less angry. I kept using it. Morning and night. After a week, the sandpaper patches were gone. Actually gone. My skin just felt even. Not oily, not dry. Just normal. My husband even said something like, “Your face looks less… stressed out.” Which is high praise. The best part was my hands. I’d been putting the excess on my knuckles, which get brutal cracks in the winter. They healed up in like, three days. No joke. I started putting it on my elbows, too. It just works. I don’t know how else to say it. It’s not a miracle cream that makes you look 20 again. It’s more like it helps your skin remember how to be skin.

Oh, random tangent—this reminds me of the hotel soap in Denver that smelled like pine and made my skin so tight I could barely blink. Why do hotels do that? Use the most stripping soap ever? Anyway. Not the point. The point is this tallow balm does the opposite. It supports. It’s simple. The ingredients list is short: grass-fed beef tallow, some pineapple essential oil for scent, that’s basically it. No water, so no need for preservatives. No weird chemicals. Just… fat. Good fat. From happy French cows, apparently. I sound like a hippie. But my skin’s happy, so I’m leaning into it.

My Skin After a Few Weeks of This Stuff

So it’s been a couple months now. I’m on my second jar. I keep it on my nightstand. My routine is stupid simple now: wash face, tallow balm, done. Sometimes if I’m feeling fancy I’ll spray some rosewater first. That’s it. The fine lines around my eyes—the ones that look worse when I’m dehydrated—they’re less noticeable. Not gone, but softer. The eczema patch I sometimes get on my neck in winter? Didn’t show up this year. My skin just feels resilient now. Like it can handle the cold wind, the dry heat indoors, all of it. It has this healthy glow, not a shine, just a glow. Like it’s properly hydrated from the inside out. I even started using a tiny bit as a lip balm. Works better than the Laneige lip mask I wasted thirty bucks on. I told my mom about it. She was horrified at first (“You put cooking fat on your face?!”) but she tried some on her dry elbows and now she wants a jar. I got one for her birthday. She’s obsessed.

Would I Buy This Pineapple Tallow Balm Again?

Yeah. Obviously. I already did. I’m actually about to order a third because I’m paranoid about running out. It’s become my desert island product. If my house was on fire, I’d grab my dog, my phone, and this jar of tallow. It’s that foundational for me now. It fixed a problem that a bunch of expensive, complicated products couldn’t. Is it weird? A little. Explaining it to people is awkward. “What’s that smell?” “Oh, it’s pineapple.” “And what is it?” “Um, beef tallow.” The look on their faces is priceless. But then I make them feel my hands. And they’re always surprised. It’s just smooth. No cracks. So yeah, I’m a convert. If your skin is feeling sensitive, dry, angry, or just off, it might be worth a shot. It’s a simple solution to a complicated feeling. I got mine from this little Etsy shop that makes it in small batches. It feels good to use something so straightforward.

Quick Questions I Get Asked

Is beef tallow good for your face? Weirdly, yes. Because it’s so similar to our skin’s own oils, it absorbs really well and doesn’t just sit on top clogging things up. It’s like giving your skin something it already knows how to use.

Does tallow balm clog pores? Not in my experience. And I’m prone to clogged pores. It absorbs deep. It’s not like putting coconut oil on your face. It sinks in and doesn’t leave a pore-clogging film behind.

What does the Pineapple tallow balm smell like? It smells like a sweet, ripe pineapple. Not artificial or overpowering. Just a cheerful, fruity scent that fades pretty quickly after you put it on. It’s nice. Makes the whole thing feel less… medical.

Anyway. If your skin’s being difficult, might be worth a shot. It just works. I don’t know what else to say. My elbows haven’t been this smooth since I was a kid. So there’s that.