We have officially reached the point where I can predict about 80% of the comments before I open them.
Which honestly feels like a milestone.
Since starting The Local Year, we’ve gotten a lot of the same questions over and over - some practical, some skeptical, some genuinely curious, and a few along the lines of “but what about SALT???”
So instead of answering them one at a time forever, here are the questions we get most often.
“Wait, are you literally not going to a grocery store for a whole year?”
That is, in fact, the plan.
For one year, we’re not buying our regular food from traditional grocery stores.
We’ll use what we already have, grow what we can, buy from local farms and producers, preserve food in season, barter when it makes sense, and figure out the rest as we go.
Will there be weird gray areas?
Absolutely.
That’s part of the fun.
“So where do you actually buy food?”
A lot of places, apparently.
Farm stands. Farmers markets. Ranchers. Orchards. Local dairies. Small mills. Bakeries. Neighbors. Our own garden.
One of the biggest surprises so far has been realizing how much food exists outside of a grocery store once you actually start looking for it.
It’s there.
It’s just less convenient than Instacart.
And that is kind of the whole point of the experiment.
“Isn’t this way more expensive?”
Sometimes yes.
Sometimes no.
Buying a tiny jar of something fancy from a local producer can absolutely cost more than buying the mass-produced version at a grocery store.
But buying meat in bulk, growing food, preserving in-season produce, using what we already have, and cutting down on random impulse purchases changes the math quite a bit.
I’m tracking costs because I’m genuinely curious what the year ends up costing us compared to normal grocery shopping.
I do not expect the answer to be, “We saved $47,000 and lived entirely on heirloom tomatoes.”
“But what about things that don’t grow locally?”
This might be our most-asked question.
We’re not pretending bananas are grown down the road.
The goal is to source locally whenever it’s realistic, and then make intentional choices where it isn’t.
We’re not trying to create a purity test around food.
We’re trying to see how much of our diet can come from our own area, while still living like normal humans.
“What about coffee?”
I knew you people were going to ask this.
No, I am not giving up coffee.
There are limits to personal growth.
For things like coffee, spices, chocolate, and other products that obviously aren’t grown in our region, we’ll source them through smaller or direct producers when possible and be thoughtful about where they come from.
The spirit of the challenge is connection and intentionality.
Not suffering.
“What about eating at restaurants?”
Yes, we still eat at restaurants, although not often.
This challenge is about how we source food for our home.
If we’re out with friends, traveling, at a wedding, or just want to go to dinner, we will.
Again: normal humans.
“What if your kids want something you can’t get?”
They probably will.
They are children.
This is not their personal character-building experiment.
We’re not interested in making food stressful for them or turning every snack into a lesson about agricultural supply chains.
We’ll do our best to find alternatives they like, make more things ourselves, and be flexible when we need to be.
They’re part of this, but they did not sign a legally binding Local Year contract.
“Do you make everything from scratch?”
No.
Absolutely not.
I make more things from scratch than I used to, mostly because some things are harder to source locally.
But I also have a full-time job, two kids, and other things to do with my life.
If a local producer makes something great, I will happily pay them to make it for me.
The goal is not to become the sole manufacturer of every food item our family consumes. (Although it feels that way sometimes).
“Are you trying to be self-sufficient?”
Not really.
I actually think “self-sufficient” is a little misleading.
Humans have pretty much always depended on other humans.
Farmers grow things we don’t grow. Ranchers raise animals we don’t raise. Bakers bake. Millers mill. Neighbors trade.
I’m much more interested in being locally connected than totally self-sufficient.
I don’t want to do everything myself.
I want to know more of the people who do it.
“Do you think everyone should do this?”
No.
I don’t even know yet if we should do this.
That’s why we’re doing the experiment.
I don’t think the takeaway needs to be “everyone should quit grocery stores.”
Maybe the takeaway is buying eggs from a neighbor.
Or getting meat from a local rancher.
Or planting a garden.
Or learning how to can peaches.
Or simply paying a little more attention to where your food came from.
There are a hundred versions of this that are less extreme than ours.
“Is this just homesteading?”
Sort of.
But also not really.
We grow food. We preserve things. We have chickens. We’re learning more traditional food skills.
But we also have jobs, kids’ activities, Amazon deliveries, Wi-Fi, and zero plans to churn all of our own butter by candlelight (although, sounds kind of fun).
I think of The Local Year less as a homesteading project and more as a food sourcing experiment.
What happens when a modern family tries to rebuild some connection to the way food used to move through a community?
That’s what I’m actually interested in.
“What happens if you fail?”
Then we fail.
And I tell you exactly what happened.
I have no interest in secretly driving to Costco at 10 p.m. and pretending I made almond flour in my backyard.
The interesting part is finding out where this works and where it doesn’t.
If we hit a point where something is impractical, wildly expensive, impossible to source, or simply not worth it, that’s useful information too.
This isn’t a performance.
It’s an experiment.
“What do you think you’ll miss the most?”
Ask me again in February.
Right now, I’m feeling extremely confident while surrounded by late-summer produce.
Future Ashley may have some feedback.
“Okay, but why are you REALLY doing this?”
Because I want our family to understand our food better.
I want my kids to know that carrots come out of dirt and meat came from an animal and strawberries have an actual season.
I want to know the people growing more of what we eat.
I want to learn skills that feel useful.
I want to waste less.
I want to be less disconnected from one of the most basic parts of our lives.
And honestly?
I’m curious.
I want to know if this is possible.
Not perfectly.
Not aesthetically.
Not in some romanticized version of farm life.
In our actual, busy, slightly chaotic life.
That’s The Local Year.
And yes.
I’ll keep answering the salt question.