Prison Ramen: Recipes and Stories from Behind Bars (15 page)

• Drop into a squat position with your hands on the ground.
  
• Kick your feet back, while keeping your arms straight.
  
• Immediately return your feet to the squat position.
  
• Jump up from the squat position.
  

When I was first attempting these exercises, I couldn’t last through the entire workout. It took me a few months to build up the stamina. With more advanced homies giving me hell, and the added stress of doing time, I burned through all my frustrations until I was able to keep up. I’ve never been in the military, but I felt as though this was a type of boot camp. In prison it’s the evolutionary rule—survival of the fittest.

Ingredients

2 packs instant oatmeal (flavored or unflavored)

6 tablespoons honey

6 tablespoons peanut butter

1 cup crushed ice

2 teaspoons instant coffee granules

1 cup water

1. Empty the oatmeal into a large jar. (Use a jar with a lid, preferably an empty peanut butter jar. This will be your mixer and one of your serving containers.)

2. Add the honey, peanut butter, ice, coffee, and water.

3. Close the jar tightly and shake until it looks like a thick milkshake. This can be a workout for your arms. If you have access to a blender, you are clearly not in prison.

by Father Greg Boyle of Homeboy Industries

I
t was the turn of the twenty-first century when the Great Spread Controversy erupted. Homeboy Industries had outgrown itself and was now in its third headquarters. Then, as now, it was the largest gang-intervention, rehab, and reentry program on the planet. Fifteen thousand folks had walked through our doors trying to reimagine life after gangs and prison. Enemies worked alongside one another in a variety of social enterprises from a bakery to a restaurant to a silk-screening factory. Trainees, all rivals, filled the headquarters, answering phones, processing people through tattoo removal, and facilitating the location of jobs through our employment services department.

The workers had to eat. They drew on the rare positive experiences of their lives in prison—and the idea for a communal spread was born. Every week two guys would go to the 99-cent store and shop for the feast. Ramen and a variety of Cup Noodles, jars of mayonnaise, cans of sardines, bags of beef jerky, flaming red hots. Homies would bring random items like a can of menudo or refried beans. All ingredients were included—none disparaged or deemed unsuitable.

The “chefs” would toss all this crap into a very large garbage bag. They’d fill it with the hottest tap water and then they’d wait for it to “blow up”—expand into its fully hydrated glory. This took until nearly noon. Then they’d shift the whole pregnant thing on its side and perform a “C-section,” carefully drawing a knife across the guts of the bag to reveal the now-cooked concoction. Twenty or so homies would grab their bowls and swoon at their bona fide definition of comfort food.

The controversy? Senior staff at Homeboy began to complain how time-consuming the whole ritual had become. Trainees would be milling in the kitchen all morning, adding newfound and always welcome ingredients. Or someone would need to race down to the 99-cent store to buy that extra can of jalapeños or that jar of salsa. No work got done. This seemed to annoy some people. I bowed to the pressure and officially halted the practice. The grumblers among the homies approached Father Mark, another Jesuit who worked at Homeboy, to advocate for its reinstatement.

“Spreads,” he told me, standing in front of my desk, “are the Kingdom of God. They obliterate the illusion that we are separate.” He went on like this, quite convincingly. I thought,
how can I say efficiency trumps
El Reino de Dios? I reversed my decision. The spreads were reinstated to much joy.

Spreads remind us that we belong to one another. The dollars get corralled, the Ramen and Cheetos get combined, the stuff magically blows up, and rivals who used to shoot at one another slurp this red mess into a newfound sense of belonging. Kinship in a garbage bag.

Father Greg Boyle
is founder of Homeboy Industries and author of
Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion
. He has received numerous humanitarian awards including the California Peace Prize.

Ingredients

10 packs Ramen (any flavor)

10 Cup Noodles (any flavor)

10 cans (5.5 ounces each) sardines, drained

5 bags (3 ounces each) beef jerky, chopped

10 bags (9 ounces each) Flamin’ Cheetos

About 10 cups very hot water

4 jars (15 ounces each) mayonnaise

2 cans (26 ounces each) pickled jalapeño wheels, drained

Notes:
•
Koinonia
is the Greek word for “fellowship.”
• Use very hot tap water; boiling water may melt the bag.
• A 2-liter soda bottle holds 8½ cups, so you’ll need about 1¼ bottles.

1. Crush the Ramen in the wrappers and empty into an extra-large, heavy-duty plastic bag. Add all the seasoning.

2. Add the Cup Noodles, sardines, beef jerky, and Cheetos. Mix well.

3. Add the very hot water until everything is submerged. Use more or less water as needed. Mix gently by jiggling the bag.

4. Carefully tie a knot in the bag top so it looks like a big water balloon. Set the bag on a towel on a clean surface.

5. Let it sit for 20 to 25 minutes. Open the bag; the Ramen should have fluffed up and there should be little to no water left.

6. Add the mayonnaise and jalapeños. Mix gently.

7. Serve immediately.

by Danny Trejo

A
t San Quentin State Prison, we played a lot of dominos. One time I had a run of fives in my hand—four dominos, each with the five dots showing. When it was my turn to play, I was going to set the spin on my opponents, that is, turn the game and control it in my favor. There were a lot of spectators and this was a big money dominos game. Just as I was ready to make my move, there was a lot of commotion right behind me, and a guy fell to the ground. He’d been stabbed while watching us play. I guess he’d snitched on some guy years ago and was finally paying for it with his life. Well, he was stabbed so many times that he actually fell right onto our table.

Of course, everyone started to run away from the crime scene. When a hit goes down and you’re in the area of the crime, chances are you’ll be blamed for it. But I stayed where I was, yelling out, “Wait, let’s finish this game; I got a run of fives!” In that moment, a good Mexican friend of mine, Tyrone, grabbed me from behind and pulled me away as I’m yelling, “Wait, wait! I had a run of fives!” Tyrone yelled at me, “
Puto
, what’s wrong with you? That guy just got stuck!” and dragged me away from the bloody guy on the table.

I didn’t realize what I was doing until I got back to my cell. Sitting there, I thought,
That guy had a mom, dad, brother, and I didn’t think his life was as important as my run of fives. What is my life turning into? I mean, when we see an accident we think
, Oh my God, I hope no one’s hurt.
But in here, I’m trying to push this guy off the domino table! WTF?

So you learn ways to overcome, and you’re glad for guys looking after you when you can’t see trouble—even if it falls right on your table.

Danny Trejo.
Before Danny Trejo became known for playing the anti-hero in dozens of films and TV series, he was a drug counselor, often helping teenage kids. His first acting role came when he was called to a movie set to help a kid who had an addiction issue. He helped the kid and was cast in the film. Trejo has said, “Everything good that has ever happened to me has happened as a direct result of helping someone else.”

Ingredients

2 packs chili flavor Ramen

1½ cups boiling water

1 tablespoon butter, softened

8 flour tortillas

½ cup shredded pepper Jack cheese

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. Add the seasoning. Mix well.

5. Heat an electric or stove-top griddle, or a large skillet.

6. When the griddle is hot, brush it with about 1 teaspoon of the butter. Place a tortilla on the griddle.

7. Sprinkle one quarter of the cheese on top of the tortilla and top with one quarter of the Ramen.

8. Cover with another tortilla and press down with a spatula to flatten it like a pancake.

9. After a few minutes, when the bottom is golden brown, use the spatula to flip it over. Let the other side cook until golden brown.

10. Repeat with the rest of the butter, tortillas, cheese, and Ramen.

B
ack before microwaves were so common and cheap they could be in prison, we had cookers. They were homemade stoves created by using the steel shelf from your locker combined with a mini electric burner you’d make in metal or electronic repair shop.

To make the not-exactly-legal cooker, you’d sand the paint off the shelf and clean it. When you put the burner under it, the shelf would get hot enough to act like a griddle and you could make grilled cheese, fried eggs, you name it. Once, we got some pancake mix. Man, we gave IHOP a run for their money. We were making pancakes night and day. It got to the point that on the weekends, my cellmate and I started selling two fat pancakes for four Ramen. With a little butter smuggled back from chow, you’d have that awesome home cooking taste we missed so much. On the downside, cleaning the cooker was a pain in the ass. But definitely worth the trouble.

Feeds 2 or 3 *can be easily doubled

Ingredients

1 cup all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons sugar

2 tablespoons baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

1 large egg, lightly beaten

2 tablespoons butter, melted

¼ cup milk

5 Hershey’s Kisses, chopped