This Bourbon Vanilla Tallow Balm Is Weird. My Skin Loves It.

Okay so my skin is just. The worst. Especially now. It’s winter and everything is cold and dry and my face feels like one of those old paper bags. You know the kind. Crinkly. I’ve tried a lot of stuff. The expensive stuff in the blue jar that everyone talks about. That just sat on top. Felt like I’d smeared candle wax on my cheeks. Then there was the whole “clean beauty” phase with the oils. Made me look like I’d been frying chicken. Shiny. Broke out. A whole mess. I was on my phone scrolling Etsy one night, my phone was at like 12%, and I saw this thing for a whipped tallow balm. Beef fat. For your face. I almost scrolled past. I mean come on. But the scent was bourbon vanilla. Sounded cozy. And I was desperate. My knuckles were cracking. So I clicked it. Figured, what’s the weirdest thing that could happen.

Anyway. It showed up. This little jar from France.

How I Started Putting Beef Fat on My Face

Let me back up. My skin type is… difficult. It’s dry but also gets weird bumps. Not pimples exactly. Just texture. Like sandpaper that’s also tight. Sensitive too. Anything with fragrance? Red. Anything too thick? Clogs. It’s a nightmare. I was using this gel moisturizer that cost way too much and did way too little. My forehead was still flaking by noon. I looked dusty. So the whole tallow balm idea, it sounded insane. But the description said it was from grass-fed cows and whipped up and that it’s similar to what our skin already makes. Our own oil. Sebum. That made a weird kind of sense. Our bodies are smart, right? Maybe putting something similar on it isn’t crazy. Maybe the lab-made stuff is the crazy part. I don’t know. I was just tired of my face hurting.

So the jar arrived. It was cold out. The package was cold. I opened it sitting on my kitchen floor because I was also waiting for my laundry. The jar is simple. I unscrewed it. It’s this off-white cream. Whipped, like cool whip but denser. I poked it. It was firm but softens real fast with your finger’s heat. That’s neat. I smelled it. Smelled like. I don’t know. Nice though. Vanilla, but not like a candle. Not sweet. Deeper. Warmer. Like if vanilla extract and a leather chair had a baby. It was comforting. Not a “scent” scent. Just a smell. I was skeptical but my cheeks were literally stinging from the dry air. So I scooped a tiny bit. Rubbed it between my palms. It melted. Became almost oily but not greasy. I just patted it all over my dry face. Braced for the worst.

What This Vanilla Tallow Balm Actually Does

Here’s the thing. It didn’t feel like anything else. It didn’t sit there. It just… went in. My skin drank it. Like it was thirsty for it. There was no film. No shine. Just my skin, but softer. Not sticky. Not slippery. Just normal skin feeling. That was the first shock. The second was the next morning. I usually wake up and my face feels tight. Like a mask that’s dried. That morning it didn’t. It felt calm. Neutral. I touched my cheek. Still soft. Not oily. I was confused. In a good way. So I kept using it. Just at night. A little scoop after I washed my face. The ritual became kind of nice. The smell is so cozy. It’s like a bedtime signal for my brain. Stress-reducing, for real. My hands were a disaster too—red, cracked between the fingers from washing and cold—so I started using it on my knuckles. Same thing. Healed up faster than anything I’d ever bought for “extremely dry skin.”

After a week, I told my sister about it. She was like, “You’re putting what on your face?” I said just try it. I gave her my jar for two days. She has eczema. The real kind. She gave it back and was like, “Okay. Where do I get one.” That’s when I knew it wasn’t just me. This tallow balm for dry, sensitive skin… it’s not magic. It’s just… correct. It’s like it gives your skin what it’s actually asking for, not what some marketing guy thinks it needs. I got mine from this little Etsy shop, by the way. The one that makes it in France. It feels small-batch. Someone actually cares about making it.

My Skin After a Few Weeks of Tallow

So it’s been maybe a month now. Maybe more. I lost track. I’m on my second jar because I’ve been using it on my elbows and heels too. Why not. My skin is just… quiet. That’s the best word. No more freak-outs. No more random dry patches that look like I have a skin disease. The texture on my forehead is smoother. Not perfect, but better. It’s like my skin barrier isn’t screaming at me all the time. I don’t think about it as much. That’s the real win. Before, my skincare was a whole production. Now it’s just: wash face, pat on some tallow balm, done. It’s the simplest routine I’ve ever had. And the cheapest, in the long run. That fancy gel was $50 and did nothing. This jar lasts ages because you need so little.

I used it the other day before going out in the wind. A super thin layer. My face didn’t get that wind-burned, chapped feeling. It just stayed protected. It’s a great natural moisturizer for dry skin in winter. Actually, scratch that. It’s the best tallow for dryness I’ve tried, and it’s the only one I’ve tried, but I don’t need to try another. This one works. My hands don’t crack anymore. That alone is worth it.

Would I Buy This Tallow Balm Again?

Yeah. I already did. Like I said, second jar. I’m probably gonna get one for my mom for her birthday. She has that thin, older skin that gets irritated by everything. I think this would just soothe it. No bells and whistles. Just good, simple stuff that works with your body, not against it. If you’re someone who’s tried everything for dry, sensitive, or eczema-prone skin and nothing sits right or actually fixes the problem… this might be worth a shot. It sounds weird. It is weird. But sometimes the weird thing is the right thing. My skin’s happy. I’m happy. That’s all I wanted.

Anyway. If your skin is being difficult, might be worth a look. The bourbon vanilla scent is just a nice bonus. Makes my bathroom smell good.

Quick Questions I Get Asked

Is beef tallow good for your face? Yeah, surprisingly. The idea freaked me out too. But the logic is there—it’s similar to the oils our own skin produces. So it absorbs deeply instead of sitting on top and clogging things. My face seems to recognize it as friendly.

Does tallow balm clog pores? Hasn’t for me. And my skin clogs if I look at it wrong. Because it’s so similar to our sebum, it absorbs cleanly. It doesn’t feel pore-clogging. It feels like it just… disappears into your skin, leaving it balanced.

What does bourbon vanilla tallow balm smell like? It’s hard to describe. It’s not food vanilla. It’s warm and a little deep. Cozy. Like the idea of vanilla, not the sweet extract. It’s not strong. It just smells nice and comforting, then fades. I really like it.