When the power goes out in the middle of cooking breakfast, you learn fast how well you have prepared. I have had my share of half cooked flapjacks sitting limply on the griddle while Darlene shakes her head and tells me I should have been ready for it. That was years ago, and since then I have gotten a lot better at having backup cooking options and making sure fuel is always tucked away where I can grab it.

Why Propane is King in My Backyard

I keep propane on hand because it does not go bad the way gasoline does, and it is easy to store in those 20 pound cylinders you see outside gas stations and hardware stores. I keep six of those bottles lined up behind the shed under a tarp. I rotate them every couple of years by hooking one up to my grill for weekend burgers, then swapping it for a full one at the farm supply store. In Missouri winters we get ice that will knock power out for three or four days, and those tanks have kept us cooking and even boiling water when the lights were gone.

The trick I learned is to keep a little $15 magnetic gauge stuck to one tank so I always know how much is left. Otherwise you find yourself hauling a tank across the yard in the dark, only to realize it is empty.

Backup Cooking Options

Propane grills are great, but they are not the only thing I keep ready. I have a two burner Coleman camp stove that I bought back in the 80s. It has been through Boy Scout trips, float trips, and even one tornado that took the roof off my neighbor’s barn. That little green stove has boiled pasta and fried bacon on tailgates and patios all over the state. It runs off the small one pound bottles, but I have an adapter hose so I can hook it straight into the bigger 20 pound tanks. That means I do not waste money buying the little bottles except when I want something portable for fishing trips.

I also keep a Dutch oven and a tripod out back. If everything else fails, I can build a small fire in the firepit and cook beans, stews, or even bake bread. Darlene laughs at me when I haul that cast iron out because it weighs like an anchor, but once you taste cornbread baked in it over coals, you stop laughing.

The Family Connection

When Wendy and Steve had that big snowstorm last year out in Oregon east of the Cascades, they called me in a panic because their power went out and the kids were hungry. They did not have a backup stove or fuel. I told them to check their garage and sure enough Steve had a half full propane tank for his old grill. I walked him through hooking it up to a cheap camp stove he picked up at the hardware store, and they were eating hot soup by nightfall. Now Wendy keeps two tanks full at all times and the kids, Luke and Charlotte, think it is an adventure when Dad cooks on the patio. Even Jasper the black lab sits close by waiting for scraps.

Tips for Storage and Safety

I keep my propane tanks outside in the shade on a couple of concrete blocks. Never inside the garage and never in the basement. In the summer heat here in Missouri those tanks will swell if you leave them in the sun too long. I cover them with an old canvas tarp, but I leave the sides open for air flow. Every spring I check the valves with a little soapy water to make sure no bubbles form, which would mean a leak.

I also keep matches, lighters, and a little piezo starter all in one plastic box in the pantry. Nothing makes you feel sillier than having fuel and food but no way to get a flame going.

Making It Part of Daily Life

I try to fold preparedness into everyday life so it does not feel like some separate chore. On Saturday evenings, Darlene and I sometimes grill chicken and I use that as an excuse to rotate one of the propane tanks. The grandkids think it is funny when Grandpa gets serious about a gauge on a fuel tank, but one day they will be glad I kept track.

Cooking without power does not need to feel like camping in your own house. It just takes a little foresight, a few spare tanks, and some tools you can trust. And if you play it right, you still get pancakes on Sunday morning even if the power company is taking its sweet time.

I have made a lot of campfire meals over the years, but there is something about cornbread in a Dutch oven that makes folks gather around and wait with their plates ready. Darlene says it tastes better when cooked outside, and she is probably right. This recipe works in the backyard firepit, on a camping trip, or even with charcoal if that is all you have handy.

First, I grease up the Dutch oven with a little bacon grease, because why not. Butter works fine too, but bacon grease gives the bread a flavor that reminds me of my grandmother’s kitchen. Then I mix up the batter in a bowl: one cup of cornmeal, one cup of flour, a tablespoon of baking powder, half a teaspoon of baking soda, a teaspoon of salt, two tablespoons of sugar, two eggs, one and a half cups of buttermilk, and four tablespoons of melted butter. I whisk it all together until it is smooth.

I pour the batter into the Dutch oven, put the lid on, and set it down over a small bed of coals. Then I take a small shovel and pile some coals on top of the lid. That way the bread bakes from both directions. The trick is not to let it get too hot, or you end up with a charred bottom and a gooey middle. I check it after about 20 minutes by lifting the lid with a hook and poking a toothpick in the center. If it comes out clean, it is done. Usually takes 25 to 30 minutes depending on how hot the coals are.

Once it is ready, I slice it right in the oven and serve it hot with butter and honey. Wendy still talks about the time I made this when she was a teenager and she swears it is the reason she never liked store bought cornbread after that. Luke and Charlotte eat it in big chunks with sticky honey fingers, and Jasper licks up every crumb that hits the ground.

This is one of those recipes that makes you feel prepared in the best way, because it is simple, filling, and it proves that just because the power is out does not mean you cannot eat like kings.

I was not there when Paradise, California went up in flames, but I followed that disaster closely. The Camp Fire burned through an entire town in just a matter of hours, and I remember sitting in my living room in Missouri watching the footage, trying to imagine what it would be like to have to leave everything behind so suddenly. More than eighty people lost their lives and thousands lost their homes. What struck me the most was how quickly the situation went from ordinary to impossible.

One lesson that came out of Paradise was the importance of fast evacuation. Many people did not leave right away because they thought they had more time, but wildfires move like freight trains when the wind is behind them. Roads were jammed with cars and some folks had to abandon their vehicles and run. That tells me that no matter where you live, even if fire is not your biggest threat, you need a clear plan for how you would get out fast. You cannot make those decisions in the moment when smoke is rolling in and sirens are blaring.

Another detail that stood out was how many people left without critical items. There were stories of folks who had prescriptions sitting on the counter, but they ran out the door without them. Others had no cash on hand, no backup ID, and no way to contact family. In Paradise, cell towers burned and the grid was gone within hours. That is why I tell anyone who will listen to keep a small “go bag” by the door with basics: a copy of your IDs, some cash, a flashlight, a phone charger, spare glasses if you wear them, and at least a few days of medication. It does not have to be fancy, but it needs to be there.

The fire also showed how dependent people are on vehicles. Some of the elderly in Paradise never got the evacuation alerts in time or did not have cars. Others had cars but no gas. If you live in a fire prone or storm prone area, keeping your gas tank at least half full should be a rule, not a suggestion. I learned from their story that a quarter tank might get you to work and back, but it will not carry you through a gridlocked evacuation route when everyone else is trying to leave too.

Finally, the Paradise fire reminded me how disasters do not care about zip codes. A town of over 25,000 people with schools, stores, and hospitals was wiped off the map in a single day. That is hard to even comprehend until you realize that it could be your town, your street, or your house under the same circumstances. You do not need to live in California to learn from it. Every one of us can take something away from the mistakes and the heartbreak of others.

When I study Paradise, I think less about the fire itself and more about the people caught in it. Their stories tell me what worked, what failed, and what I can do here in Missouri to make sure I do not end up in the same position. Disasters might look different from state to state, but the lessons are universal if you pay attention.

If you have never built a rocket stove, let me tell you, it is one of those projects that feels half science experiment and half survival magic. A rocket stove is basically a little furnace that takes twigs and scrap wood and turns them into cooking heat that rivals a full propane burner. The design creates a draft that pulls air through and concentrates the flames under your pot. Once you see it work, you will not forget it.

Here is a step by step on how I build mine, with the details spelled out so you can picture it.

When I first built mine in the shed, Darlene popped her head out and said, “Kyle, that looks like something a raccoon would crawl out of.” By the time I had a skillet of scrambled eggs sizzling on it, she was already asking for a plate. That is the moment I knew this scrappy little stove had earned its place in my preparedness toolkit.

Would you like me to write another DIY survival project in this style, maybe something like a homemade water filter or solar oven?

Out here east of the Cascades, life has a different rhythm than back in Missouri. Dad worries about ice storms, I worry about wildfires and weeks of dry wind that turn the hills into a tinderbox. When the sky turns orange in August and the air smells like smoke, I find myself running through the mental checklist even while flipping pancakes for the kids. It is just part of living here now.

The kids, Luke and Charlotte, have turned into my little junior preppers whether they know it or not. Last summer, when we had a power outage that stretched into the night, they thought it was a campout. They dragged their sleeping bags into the living room, cracked open their glow sticks, and begged for s’mores. I let them roast marshmallows on skewers over the propane camp stove, which made Steve roll his eyes, but honestly, the kids will remember it as fun instead of scary. That is how I sneak preparedness into their lives without them realizing it.

We keep two “blackout bins” in the hall closet, labeled with big duct tape letters. Inside are headlamps, extra batteries, hand crank radios, snacks, and decks of cards. I let the kids pack their own snacks, which is why Luke has two king size packs of Skittles and Charlotte insisted on unicorn shaped fruit gummies. Steve and I quietly add the boring but important stuff like water purification tablets and small first aid kits.

One Saturday in July, we ran a full on drill. I told the kids the power was “out” for the next 24 hours. No lights, no fridge, no screens. Luke groaned for about ten minutes until I handed him a whistle and told him his job was to be the “scout” who checked the flashlight batteries. Charlotte got to cook mac and cheese on the camp stove with Steve, and she bragged about it for a week. By bedtime, they were sprawled on the rug, sticky with powdered cheese, asking when we could “play blackout” again.

Living here has taught me that prepping with kids is about reframing the narrative. Instead of “we’re preparing for disaster,” I say “we’re getting ready for an adventure.” They buy into it, and when the real thing happens—whether it is smoke in the air or the power cutting out—they will be ready without the panic.

Even Jasper, our black lab, is roped into this circus. He has his own duffel bag in the trunk with kibble, a collapsible bowl, and a bright orange bandana the kids insisted he needed so we could “spot him in the woods.” Last time we checked the bag, Luke slipped in a tennis ball because “everybody deserves something fun when there’s an emergency.”

That is life out here. Dry summers, smoky skies, and two kids who think disaster drills are the same as camping trips. It is not glamorous, but it is real, and it keeps us sharp.

This week I want you to run what I call the Water Stash Test. Most folks think they have “plenty” of water tucked away, but when you actually live off that stash for even a single day, you realize how fast it disappears.

Here is how to do it step by step:

Running this test once in a while makes the numbers on paper real. You stop guessing and start knowing. It is a whole different experience when you are pouring the last jug into a pot and hoping it will stretch through the evening.

Next time, try stretching it to two days. That will really show you where the cracks in your system are.