Holy fuck…I used to think “preparedness” meant remembering to defrost chicken by 5 p.m. or stocking up on snacks before a Netflix binge. I wasn’t exactly the kind of girl who thought about power outages, grid failures, or blizzards trapping you inside for three days. Then I moved to Illinois.
This isn’t just cornfield country. This is serious food-prep land. People here know their stuff. They know what to grow, when to can, where to get raw milk, and how to bake a pie from scratch using flour they milled themselves. I, on the other hand, once burned Rice-A-Roni and cried.
So yeah. The learning curve was steep. But I took notes. And now I’m here to report on what Illinois food culture taught me about being truly, actually prepared. And not just for disaster … for life.
Canned food is not ugly. It’s elite.
Before Illinois, I thought canned food was sad. A little metallic. A little 1980s bomb shelter. Now? I think it’s beautiful.
Every summer, the kitchens around here become jam-making, pickle-brining, salsa-simmering zones of power. People trade tips on water bath vs pressure canning like it’s fashion week. You’ll find pantries stacked with rows of jewel-toned jars that honestly look more aesthetic than anything on Pinterest.
And it’s not just about pretty shelves. It’s about control. You decide what goes in. You know where it came from. And when January hits and your local grocery store has sad produce and sky-high prices, you’re not stressed. You’ve got tomatoes from your own garden, sealed tight and ready to go.
Buy in bulk. Yes, really in bulk.
This lesson came slowly. Like, do I really need 25 pounds of oats? Turns out, yes I do.
Because when you’re stocking a pantry for a real winter or just trying to avoid random price hikes, bulk is your BFF. Flour, sugar, beans, pasta, rice, salt, oats — they all store forever and can be turned into a million things. Especially when you have, say, chickens laying eggs and fresh milk in the fridge. Suddenly a little flour and water becomes pancakes, muffins, bread, or biscuits.
And you don’t need a bunker to store it. I use clear tubs, labels I printed on my kid’s label maker, and shelves we picked up at a garage sale. Cute? Not really. Functional? 100 percent.
Farmers markets are the original Whole Foods
There’s nothing quite like your first Illinois farmers market. The produce is legit. The prices are better than you’d expect. And the people selling it? Actual farmers. Not hipster resellers who bought it from somewhere else.
I now have a lady I get sourdough starter from. A guy who sells unfiltered honey in gallon jugs. And a couple that trades me duck eggs for our extra zucchini. It’s kind of like a local food mafia, and I am so here for it.
More than anything, this is where I learned that food isn’t just what you buy. It’s a relationship. A rhythm. A trust between grower and eater.
The deep freeze is sacred space
I used to use our freezer as a graveyard for half-eaten pints of ice cream and forgotten frozen dinners. Now? It’s prime real estate. Organized, labelled, rotated like a spreadsheet with vibes.
Because when you’re serious about preparedness, the freezer becomes your safety net. You freeze broth, cooked beans, butter, chopped veggies, leftover soup, shredded cheese, and more. It’s not just for meat. It’s for making life easier. Especially when your baby is teething and the power’s flickering and the roads are icy and dinner needs to happen like… now.
Also, just a quick tip. If you freeze something, label it. Future You will thank you when you don’t have to guess whether that’s chili or spaghetti sauce or some kind of science experiment from 2023.
The pantry is your power centre
Real talk. A stocked pantry is not just a homemaking flex. It’s freedom. It means you don’t need to panic when the weather changes or the truck delivery is late. You’ve got what you need.
My pantry right now has:
- Three kinds of beans
- All the baking essentials
- Coconut milk
- Canned tomatoes I made last summer
- Chicken broth I froze in silicone trays
- Tortilla chips (because I’m human)
- Dried herbs I grew and dehydrated myself
Is it perfect? No. Am I weirdly proud of it? Yes. Having a pantry like this makes me feel like the main character in a post-apocalyptic rom-com. Which, honestly, is kind of my dream.
Cooking becomes less of a chore, more of a superpower
Before all this, cooking felt exhausting. But now? I think of it as part of my preparedness. Not in a stressful “I must cook every single thing from scratch” way, but in a fun, “Let’s figure out how to make this without going to the store” kind of way.
It’s taught me to be creative. Like using oatmeal in meatloaf because I ran out of breadcrumbs. Or throwing together a soup from literally whatever was left in the fridge. These little choices build confidence. And that confidence is a huge part of what preparedness is all about.
You start to trust yourself. And that’s powerful.
Food storage is a flex — and a form of self-care
No joke, my idea of self-care used to be a latte and a scroll through TikTok. Now? It’s organizing my spice drawer, restocking mason jars, or defrosting chicken stock for a soup I haven’t even planned yet.
I know it might sound boring. But it’s the kind of boring that makes you feel calm, capable, and connected to something bigger. Like your future self. Or your ancestors. Or just the planet in general.
Illinois taught me food isn’t just about meals
It’s about mind-set. About showing up for your family, your community, and yourself. It’s being the person who doesn’t panic when the power flickers. The one with a plan. The one who can whip up something out of nothing.
Preparedness doesn’t mean fear. It means peace. It means knowing that you’re good — no matter what’s going on in the world.
And if it also means I get to eat home-canned peach jam in February while wrapped in a flannel blanket? Even better.
Final thoughts?
If you’re overwhelmed by food preparedness, start tiny. A few extra cans. One shelf of dried goods. Learn to make soup from scratch. Try baking bread once a month. And maybe grab a few mason jars the next time you’re at the store.
You’re more capable than you think. And Illinois? She’s the ultimate teacher….
