Prison Ramen: Recipes and Stories from Behind Bars (3 page)

B
eing processed at the county jail is just about the most humiliating treatment you can experience. You’re stripped of your clothes, packed in lines like sardines, and forced to be as close to each other as possible. The officers yell out, “Nuts to butts!” You can probably figure out what this means. Not only is it humiliating, but the smell of all those bodies mixed with fear, regret, and anger is so bad you can’t help but gag.

While you’re standing there butt naked, you’re told to “spread ’em, bend over, and cough.” This is to make sure you aren’t bringing any contraband into the county facilities. The procedure usually takes a few seconds but I’ve seen deputies take their sweet time inspecting any orifice they please. It’s all about humiliating the prisoners, breaking them down.

Once the process is over, you’re handed a sack with a slice of meat and a slice of cheese. I would trade that stinking sack lunch for butt-naked soup any day.

Ingredients

1 pack Ramen (any flavor)

About 1 cup boiling water

Note:
You can serve this with a good handful of chips on the side, but sometimes just enjoying it butt naked is best. The soup, that is.

1. Empty the Ramen into a bowl. Set aside the seasoning packet.

2. Add the water. The Ramen should be submerged.

3. Add more or less water as desired.

4. Add the seasoning. Stir, cover, and let sit for 3 to 5 minutes.

T
wo days after my eighteenth birthday, I was sitting in the L.A. County jail waiting for my transfer to the California State Prison in Corcoran. I was trying to wrap my head around the ten years I had just been sentenced to, when mail call came. And there it was: my own Dear John letter. What did I expect? For my eighteen-year-old girlfriend to wait for me to serve a ten-year sentence?

The tension was particularly high that day because homies were coming in all day reporting on the madness and rage on the streets. It was just after four white LAPD cops where acquitted of beating a black guy named Rodney King just short of death. L.A. went crazy with riots for five days of looting, burning, smashing, and crashing when reports got back about a Hispanic farmworker getting his head bashed in by some black gang members on his way home from work. I knew a race riot was brewing in my new home.

I was trying to distract myself with thoughts of good food. With items from the commissary and a little help from a “stinger,” a makeshift prison heating device using metal plates and electrical wires, I cooked up this surprisingly delicious meal. Unfortunately, it tastes all the better when you know you won’t be eating any homemade meals for a very long time.

Ingredients

1 pack beef flavor Ramen

1 cup boiling water

1 pouch (9 ounces) or about 1 cup cooked chili beans in hot sauce

1 summer sausage (about 9 ounces), chopped

2 handfuls of corn chips (I find chili-cheese corn chips add optimal flavor.)

Note:
Any sausage will do, but summer sausage doesn’t need refrigeration.

1. Crush the Ramen in the wrapper and empty into a bowl. Set aside the seasoning packet.

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

3. Meanwhile, combine the beans and sausage in a microwavable bowl. Add the seasoning and stir. Cover and microwave for 2 to 3 minutes, until warm.

4. Combine the beans and sausage with the Ramen.

5. Add the corn chips.

Y
ou can tell a first-timer from a seasoned convict by simply observing the way he does his time. A first-timer facing a multiyear sentence will do everything possible to keep communications with the streets alive; a convict facing decades will start cutting all ties. A first-timer will become a phone monster; a convict may get on the phone to make a call on a special holiday or simply send a card. A first-timer will stand and wait by his cell door when he hears the CO passing out mail, and if the CO happens to pass the cell without stopping, it’s a sad sight. A convict doesn’t trip on mail; he just keeps his mind where his body is, in prison.

As heavy time starts to pass, the first-timer’s calls don’t get accepted anymore, mail flow starts to slow down, and for some it even stops. Then maybe after a couple of months, sometimes years of this, the famous “Dear John” letter will arrive. Some men can’t deal with this and decide to just end it. That’s why most convicts know that when facing decades, it’s better to cut all ties with the outside world immediately before beginning the long road ahead. Keeping your mind and body in the same place keeps you safe, and sane. It’s the only way to do hard time.

Ingredients

1 pack Ramen (any flavor)

Peanut butter

Strawberry jelly

1. Open the wrapper carefully to avoid breaking the Ramen. Save the seasoning packet for another use. Place the square of dry Ramen on a plate.

2. Spread the peanut butter and jelly on the Ramen as you would on a piece of bread.

I
f you find yourself being arrested with no money in your pocket, you’re going to be screwed once you get to prison. If you don’t have financial support from someone on the outside, you’re doubly screwed. Without money, you can’t get anything from the commissary, and the commissary is a big part of what makes life worth living. If you were indigent when arrested, you get the “state issue,” a collection of crappy supplies—a two-inch toothbrush, toothpaste the size of your pinkie finger that tastes like glue, a body soap that leaves your skin ashy as hell, and a deodorant that burns your pits. If you have long hair, you’ll get a state issue comb. Without money, there’s no way to get better supplies. Everyone gets a state issue breakfast, sack lunch, and dinner. The menu is usually the same food every day of the week. The food at Corcoran had no salt, no pepper, no spices to give it any flavor. Without money, that’s what you’ll eat until you gag.

Ingredients

1 pack chili flavor Ramen

1 cup boiling water

1 slice bologna, chopped

2 slices white bread, cut into quarters

½ cup corn chips

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

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

3. Add the bologna, bread, and corn chips. Mix well.

I
was in federal prison and looking forward to enjoying this tamale with some friends during a Lakers–Rockets game. I was sitting in the dayroom with the TV, the tamale cooking about twenty feet from me, when a friend bolted around the corner, tossed a cell phone toward me, and whispered, “HIDE IT!” He was clearly being followed, so I stepped quickly and, without a second thought, buried the very small phone inside the tamale. The second the phone was buried, three correctional officers came in and searched the entire area—but skipped the tamale. I was glad to have saved his cell phone, and in gratitude, he gave me all the calls I wanted.

I used that phone all the time. Being able to call my kids and talk to family and friends whenever I wanted was great—for a while. But I started using the phone every day, sometimes staying on it all night. Before I knew it, I was letting the time do me. I still had a few long years to go, and it was turning my life into a living hell. So I had to let it go. It’s hard-won wisdom to know the difference between something that feels good in the short term but hurts in the long term.

Ingredients

2 packs beef flavor Ramen

1 bag (about 4 ounces) spicy pork skins or rinds

½ cup refried beans

2 bags (1 to 2 ounces each) corn chips

1½ cups boiling water

3 tablespoons squeezable cheese, or more to taste

1. Crush the Ramen in the wrappers. Open the wrappers. Set aside one of the seasoning packets and save the other for another use.

2. Crush the pork skins in the closed bag.

3. Open one end of the bag and add the Ramen, refried beans, corn chips, seasoning, and water. Mix well.

4. Fold the bag in half to secure the tamale. Wrap a towel around the bag to keep the heat in.

5. Let sit for about 30 minutes.

6. Remove the tamale from the bag. Squirt the cheese on top.

W
hen you get to prison you are given an ID with your prison number. When correctional officers want to see what type of inmate they are dealing with, they’ll always ask to see your ID. The ID number always begins with a letter.
A
is the oldest, all the way through the alphabet, to
AA
being the newest. You can still see a few old dinosaurs with the
A
letters, pretty much senior citizens by now. They’ve been in prison over thirty years.

I had a friend, “Richard” from Santa Monica, who was an
A.
He was a
pachuco
. A
pachuco
was a guy who dressed well, went to nightclubs, and lived the high life. Ricky Ricardo from
I Love Lucy
was a
pachuco
. When I met him, he’d been down for thirty-three years. He was charged in the murder of a police officer but still claimed his innocence.

We became close friends because we were both from West L.A., and he enjoyed hearing about the Santa Monica pier and how much the city had changed. I would show him recent pictures and we’d share stories. He told me that after twenty-five years in prison, he’d stopped going to his parole board hearings. He said that no matter what, he would never admit to something he did not do. And all they wanted from him was to admit his guilt. He would say, “God knows the truth; he’ll set me free.” After our last conversation, Richard was transferred to a federal medical center. Who knows if Richard is still alive. Either way, I hope he’s free.

Ingredients

1 pack beef flavor Ramen

½ cup boiling water

2 hamburger buns or 1 hoagie or hero roll, split open

Mayonnaise