Prison Ramen: Recipes and Stories from Behind Bars (13 page)

5. Cover and microwave for about 5 minutes, until hot.

6. Add the Ramen. Mix well.

7. Spread the mixture on the tostadas and add a good handful of lettuce.

M
ovie night in prison was usually a big deal. We didn’t get to watch any new or R-rated movies, but they did bring in a big old projector and showed movies on a huge screen in the chow hall. It kind of made it feel like you were actually
at
the movies.

One movie night involved some famous people—but not actors. A vicious hit was carried out by members of the L.A. gang, the Crips. There was a guy in the prison who was a member of the rival group—the notorious Bloods. You could tell this was a planned hit by the precise mechanics of the execution. The projector was set up, and the guys were in a pretty good mood. But just as the lights went out and the movie began, the soundtrack kicked in and got loud. That was the cue. Right next to me, there was a sudden movement and I saw the guy I knew to be a Crip put his hand over the Blood’s mouth as he simultaneously sliced his neck with one smooth, quick motion. Before the lights came on, the assassin was out of the chow hall, nowhere to be seen. That night, nothing that happened on the screen matched the drama around us.

Ingredients

1 pack chili flavor Ramen

Note:
Chili flavor Ramen is best for this recipe. Other flavors just don’t do it.

1. Crush the Ramen in the wrapper.

2. Open the wrapper on one end only and take out the seasoning packet.

3. Sprinkle the seasoning into the crushed Ramen, close the bag, and shake until the seasoning is distributed.

T
he two essentials to cell living are mutual respect and common courtesy. When two men are living in a cell the size of a small restroom, both of these things are a matter of life and death. There are rules, and sometimes new cellmates need to be informed. For example, two inmates can’t walk around the cell at the same time, so there is a “one up, one down” program. This means one inmate is up and doing whatever he needs to do—restroom, brush teeth, cook, birdbath, and even exercise—while the other waits on the bed, staying out of the way. Also, if your cellmate is asleep you should have the courtesy of not making too much noise. I’ve been in prisons where inmates kill their cellmates over stuff that wouldn’t matter outside.

One of the best cellmates I had was a lifer homie named Rascal. We got along so well that lockdowns weren’t even that bad. He was a few years older and a real clown. He was so upbeat that you couldn’t tell he was facing twenty-five to life. I don’t think there was a day this homie didn’t make me laugh, and he always respected my space.

Ingredients

2 packs chili flavor Ramen

1½ cups boiling water

1 pouch (6 ounces) pastrami

½ onion, sliced into half-moons

1 jalapeño chile, sliced into wheels

2 tablespoons soy sauce (about 1 ounce)

Mustard

1 hoagie or hero roll, split open

Hot pickle wheels

1. Crush the Ramen in the wrappers and empty into a bowl. Set aside the seasoning packets.

2. Add the water, cover, and let sit for 8 minutes.

3. Drain off excess water.

4. Combine the pastrami, onion, jalapeño, and soy sauce in a large microwavable bowl.

5. Cover and microwave for 5 minutes, or until hot.

6. Add the Ramen and seasonings. Mix well.

7. Spread mustard in the roll. Add the pastrami mixture and pickle wheels.

W
hen an important and confidential message needs to travel from prison to prison, in most cases we’ll carry a note, wrapped in plastic, in a place where the sun never shines. In most cases, the note is written in detail and made as compact as possible. It could be as long as half a page, and is folded and rolled into the size of an enema. It’s wrapped several times with plastic from the sack lunch. If you are the person transferring the note, you prepare your “suitcase,” if you will, by making sure it is completely empty. You lather the plastic-wrapped message with hair grease and just before you hear the officers walking toward your cell with the handcuffs and shackles for your waist and legs, you insert the note into your suitcase. You’ll be glad you didn’t eat anything the night before.

Once you arrive at your destination, you will get strip-searched, and cavity-searched as well. It’s rare for the officer to see the note you’ve “keistered,” and once this search is over, you’ll be put inside a holding cell. At this point, you have to sit on the toilet and shit the note out. Once you’ve cleaned the item thoroughly, it’s ready for delivery. The addressee will be looking for you and ready to receive instructions.

Ingredients

1 pack chili flavor Ramen

Heaping ½ cup raisins (4 ounces)

1 cup salted peanuts (about 4 ounces)

½ cup chopped pitted dates (4 ounces)

Heaping ½ cup dried banana chips (4 ounces)

1. Crush the Ramen in the wrapper and empty into a large bowl.

2. Add half of the seasoning.

3. Add the raisins, peanuts, dates, and banana chips. Mix well.

P
eople doing hard time don’t really trust anyone. But every once in a while, you’ll meet someone you connect with. Sometimes it’s a homeboy you are doing time with, or one you meet behind bars. When the bond is made inside, it’s stronger than it might be outside. You become brothers fast, looking after each other. In prison, the name for your closest friend and ally is your “road dog.”

But the politics of prison override everything—even that bond. Once I was asked to do the unthinkable—kill my road dog. I was given an order from the Mexican shot caller to stab my friend. Before he was arrested, he allegedly shot his gun into a crowd of rival gang members and struck a young girl. Bad luck all around—she was the daughter of a Mexican mafia member. The order came specifically to me. Stabbing my friend didn’t seem right, but prison has its own rules and if you don’t follow them, you die. It’s that simple.

So we set it up. It was Saturday, and our favorite Spanish show,
Caliente
, was on—pretty girls dancing in bikinis. We were all enjoying the show, drinking coffee together. As I gave the signal to the four guys who were the distraction, they walked to the opposite side of the cellblock and began horsing around. The moment the gunner officer in the tower began to walk toward them, my two guys and I pulled out our shanks and began the assault. Once the victim was curled up in a fetal position, we threw the shanks in the nearby trash cans and dispersed in opposite directions. I was able to get to a shower area, take off most of my clothes, and get into the stall. When the victim was discovered, the officers shouted to get down, to the accompanying sound of guns being cocked. I lay in my boxer shorts near the showers and watched the medics and several officers arrive. The other two assailants were apprehended due to the blood on their clothing.

Afterward, we were locked down for a couple of months. We found out the victim survived and was in the local hospital pending transfer to another prison. Once we got off lockdown, the shot caller acknowledged the deed done. But I felt like shit about it. Still do.

Ingredients

2 packs chili flavor Ramen

½ cup corn chips

½ cup tortilla chips

½ cup potato chips

½ cup pork skins or rinds

Hot sauce

1. Crush the Ramen in the wrappers and empty into a large bowl.

2. Sprinkle one of the seasonings over the Ramen. Save the other for another use.

3. Add the corn chips, tortilla chips, potato chips, pork skins, and hot sauce to taste. Mix well.

by Clarence J. “Clancy” Brown III

I
t seems like I’ve been working in jails for my entire adult life. From Joliet to Rahway; Soledad to Angola; St. Charles, Illinois, to L.A. County; Mansfield, Ohio, to Feliciana Parish, Louisiana. I’ve even worked in imaginary prisons in Maine and in outer space. Here’s what I know for sure: they all suck. Even in my privileged visits as an observer, student, or actor, the overwhelming vibe in these places is of souls suppressed, lives in limbo, injustice, anger, and fear. There are men there who should be in prison, but not as many as you’d think. Many just fucked up once or twice. Most pled-out in a system stacked against them, or that they couldn’t afford to participate in, so the system chucks them. It takes their liberty—the essential element of their humanity—and expects them to self-correct or at least be a “dude” and abide. Some manage. Some can’t. Prisons are places where humanity is withheld, suspended; and the struggle to recover or maintain or assert humanity pulses through every institution I’ve ever visited.

As far as I can tell, there are two lifelines to one’s humanity, even as it is being systematically assaulted. The first is music. In my opinion, the most satisfying moment in
The Shawshank Redemption
is when Andy Dufresne locks himself in the room with the PA system and plays Mozart throughout the prison. The other is food. Eating a meal, no matter how simple, is the essential element of liberty. A moment to savor, be sated, and get refueled. The first thing released inmates look forward to is a meal. Whether it’s from Mickey D or from momma, it means you’ve survived, you’re still human. There is always food in a prison movie. It’s where men can talk, where plots are hatched, where alliances are forged, where peace is kept, and, for dramatic purposes, violated. It is as close to normal society as an inmate is routinely allowed to participate in. So eat. Simply. Safely. Consciously. It connects you to your humanity.