Reclaiming the Cream: Why I Put Beef Tallow on My Face (And Why Our Great-Grandmothers Did Too) ✨

Let’s just go ahead and get this part out of the way: yes, I willingly and happily rub beef fat on my face.

I know. Sounds a little crazy in today’s world of 17-step skincare routines, mystery serums, and lotion bottles with ingredient lists longer than a CVS receipt. But truthfully? This one switch — going back to a homemade, tallow-based face cream — has felt less like a trend and more like a return to something sane, old, and right.

No, I don’t raise beef cattle on our homestead (though wouldn’t that be something). I buy rendered organic beef tallow from a trusted source — one that comes from grass-fed, pasture-raised animals, just like the ones our great-grandmothers would have relied on.

And those same grandmothers? They were onto something.

🐄The Forgotten History of Tallow Creams 🕰️

Before factories bottled beauty and sold us an alphabet of synthetic promises (AHA! BHA! PEG! ETC!), women tended their skin the same way they tended everything else — from scratch, with what they had on hand.

• Tallow was a staple. Rendered from beef suet (the hard fat around the kidneys), it was prized not just for cooking and candle-making, but for healing and moisturizing skin.
• It was often blended with herbs, oils, or even a bit of beeswax and rosewater to make soothing creams, salves, and balms.
• Its structure is remarkably similar to our skin’s natural oils (sebum), making it deeply nourishing and non-irritating for most skin types.

In short, long before the word “skincare” became its own industry, tallow was skincare.

💪 A Dab of Rebellion, A Dab of Grace 🕊️

Some folks might scoff at the idea. “Why not just buy lotion?” they’ll say.

Because most modern lotions are, frankly, chemical cocktails in a plastic bottle. They smell like fruit loops, cost a small fortune, and often leave your skin drier in the long run. I’m not interested in giving a multi-billion-dollar beauty industry more of my trust — or my money — when I can stir up something better in my own kitchen.

There’s something profoundly satisfying about choosing ingredients you can pronounce, sourcing them with care, and knowing that what you’re putting on your body is as nourishing as what you put in it.

Even if you have to buy the tallow like I do, it’s still a win. You’re taking a small step toward personal sovereignty — a way of pulling back control from a manufacturing world that’s far too eager to overcomplicate the simple.

What’s in My Cream?

Here’s my favorite simple blend:

• 2 tablespoons organic, grass-fed beef tallow
• 1 tablespoon jojoba oil (or olive squalane for a lighter feel or olive oil if that is what you have on hand.)
• A few drops of essential oil — I lean toward frankincense and lavender

Gently melt the tallow in a double boiler, stir in the oil and essential oil, and pour into a clean glass jar. Let it cool, and there you have it — a rich, nourishing face cream that your skin will drink up.

If you’re used to water-based lotions, this will feel thick at first. But give it time. A little goes a long way, and your skin will thank you.

What It Feels Like 💭

It feels like taking a step back from the noise.

It feels like reclaiming the rhythms of womanhood that existed long before the beauty aisles and before some corporation decided you were “missing something.”

It feels like honoring the old ways. Like remembering that sometimes the best remedies are the ones your grandmother didn’t even think twice about.

It’s not magic. It won’t make you look twenty years younger. But then again… that was never the point.

❤️For the Love of Homemade ❤️

This post doesn’t come with a sales pitch. I’m not launching a skincare line or trying to convince you to put tallow in your Amazon cart. But if you’re curious, and you’ve got five minutes and a little jar — give it a try.

Not because it’s trendy. But because making something with your own hands — even something as simple as face cream — is an act of intention in a world that desperately needs more of it.

And if it makes you glow a little while you’re out gathering eggs or hanging laundry? Well, that’s just a bonus.

Embracing the years with wisdom,

Liyah (The Intentional Peasant)