Prison Ramen
Page 9
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.
The Great Spread Controversy
by Father Greg Boyle of Homeboy Industries
It 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.
Koinonia Ramen
Feeds 15 to 20
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.
Run of Fives
by Danny Trejo
At 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.”
Trejo’s Ramen Quesadilla
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.
Cell Locker Cooker
Back 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.
Chocolate Chip Pancakes
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
Vegetable oil or more butter, for the cooker
Note: Most of these ingredients were smuggled from the prison kitchen or brought by a helpful correctional officer.
1. Combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl. Mix well.
2. Stir in the egg, butter, and milk until the batter pours easily and is no longer lumpy. Add a little more milk if necessary. Mix in the Hershey kisses.
3. Heat the cooker and coat with a little vegetable oil.
4. Pour a small amount of batter onto the cooker. If cooking more than one, leave space between them.
5. Cook until bubbles form on top of the pancakes and they’re dry around the edges. Slide a spatula underneath and flip.
6. Cook the other side for about the same amount of time. Serve immediately.
All Blood Runs Red
In prison, races stick together. You’ll see a bond here that doesn’t quite exist in the same way out in the free world. The whites got a thing they call The Klan, the blacks got the muscle, and the Mexicans got the knives. However, when correctional officers mistreat or disrespect inmates, those inmates can unite in war against the officers. I’m talking inmates banding together, putting race issues aside.
There was one officer in particular who’d always abuse his power. He treated all inmates, all races, the same way—like shit. One day, he messed with the wrong convict. As he was escorting one particular homie out of the cellblock, this escorting officer punched the handcuffed convict right in the face. In seconds, all the nearby inmates who saw it happen—black, white, and Hispanic—jumped on the correctional officer. We were all tear-gassed and all the COs raced to the yard in an attempt to control what was turning into a full-on riot. The convict who had been punched while cuffed had Down syndrome, and he’d been like a little brother to everyone, made mistakes like everyone else. That day, in Corcoran, we all came together.
Standing alone and apart, we’re nothing but puppets, but together we could do some good—even in prison. This Ramen & Bean Jambalaya seems like that. A mixture of odd ingredients apart, but when they come together, you get an amazing dish that blends beautifully.
Ramen & Bean Jambalaya
Ingredients
2 packs any flavor Ramen
1½ cups boiling water
1 can (15 to 16 ounces) hot chili with beans
1 can (15 to 16 ounces) black beans, drained
1 summer sausage (about 9 ounces), chopped, or 1 can (9 ounces) Vienna sausage, drained and chopped
2 jalapeño chiles, chopped
Louisiana or other hot sauce
1. Crush the Ramen in the wrappers and empty into a bowl. Save the seasoning packets for another use.
2. Add the water, cover, and let it sit for 8 minutes.
3. Drain off excess water.
4. Mix the chili, black beans, sausage, and jalapeños in a microwavable bowl.
5. Add hot sauce to taste for an extra kick.
6. Cover and microwave for 3 to 5 minutes, until hot.
7. Add the Ramen. Mix well.
In the Circle
There were many snowy nights in Tehachapi State Prison, when the homies and I would hang out around the handball court bleachers, sharing war stories from our youth and reminiscing about the hearts we broke along the way. Some of us were fathers, brothers, sons, and husbands. Some were short-timers, but most of the group were lifers. I was honored that these men would allow me to join their circle. Lifers don’t usually socialize with short-timers. They stay away from guys who have parole dates. It’s about disconnecting with the free world. Not having to hear “When I get out I’m going to . . .” or “I have just a few months left.” These words don’t fit in a lifer’s vocabulary. There are some guys who mix well, of course, but it’s totally up to the lifer who he allows in his circle.
The knowledge and wisdom I gained in prison can be credited to these men. From Big Topo, I learned to attack before I ever had to defend. His advice kept me alive in many questionable circumstances. Fred M. pointed out the key is to never stop learning. Seek out all the schooling you can—formal and informal. And from every lifer, I learned to appreciate my freedom. So, to this day, I find myself drinking a Cadillac every morning and thinking of the times I shared with them, surviving the hellhole, and trying to make sure I never go back.
Cadillac Coffee
Ingredients
1 tablespoon instant coffee granules (preferably Taster’s Choice or Folgers)
2 cups boiling water
2 tablespoons sugar
5 tablespoons French vanilla flavor creamer
3 tablespoons honey
1. Place the coffee in a very large mug.
2. Add the water and stir.
3. Add the sugar and creamer and stir.
4. Add the honey and stir some more.
Repeating the Lesson
Nine years after being released from prison, I ended up back on the same road to hell. I wasn’t that naive eighteen-year-old from before. I was just shy of my thirty-third birthday. My tattoos, reminders of my past, had started to fade. I was an adult, a husband, and a father of three kids. I love my kids more than my life and did what any father would do to protect them. For me, that meant carrying a weapon to ward off attacks that often came by complete surprise. And that’s what put me on another long vacation from society—and took me away from my kids.
When I found myself back in that cell, I knew what was coming next. Every moment, every day, my ability to keep cool would be tested. There would be riots, stabbings, and lockdowns. And when there was a lockdown, there would be no communication with my kids.
The shit that hurt the most? Getting letters from my kids. After the correctional officer would drop off the letters, it would take me a moment to open them up. The pain was too much just to see their handwriting. “Miss you Daddy. Please come home. I love you.” The regret was a heavy load to carry. I kept from screaming by remembering the words of another man who had been incarcerated, Nelson Mandela: “There is no easy walk to freedom, anywhere, and many of us will have to pass through the valley of the shadow of death again and again before we reach the mountaintop of our desires.”
P B & Plátano Sandwich Spread
Ingredients
6 tablespoons peanut butter
6 slices bread
3 bananas, sliced
2 handfuls M&M’s candy
3 tablespoons honey
1. Spread the peanut butter on each piece of bread.
2. Place the banana slices on top of each piece.
3. Sprinkle the M&M’s over the banana slices.
4. Pour the honey over each slice of bread. Press the slic
es together to make 3 sandwiches.
5. Cut into quarters and serve.
Not-So-Happy Holidays
There’s a lot of tension in prison around the end of the year. The weather gets colder, we start going outside less, and then the holidays arrive. They represent more of what we don’t have. All it takes is for one idiot to lose it and start a wildfire. The spark that ignites it could be a bad call on the basketball court, or just a hard look. Anger, resentment, and sadness are released in the form of physical violence. But there were volunteers, particularly around the holidays, who’d bring a little joy, even to the coldest men. They would hold church services and then share some goodies and snacks—kind of like a Christmas party. They would also arrange for some of us to pick out toys and gifts that they would deliver to our families. It bordered on a feeling of normality, to know your kids would get a gift from Dad on Christmas. I will never forget the sound of my kids on the phone saying, “Thank you, Daddy!” on Christmas morning.
Peanut Brittle
Ingredients
1 tablespoon butter, plus more butter or vegetable oil for the pan
1 cup salted peanuts
1 cup sugar
½ cup corn syrup
½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1. Butter or oil an 8-by-8-inch square metal baking pan. Set aside.
2. Mix the peanuts, sugar, corn syrup, and salt in a large microwavable bowl.