A little bite of prison life
Untold truths and strife seem muted in the silent chamber hallways of Eastern State Penitentiary with its aged, cracking teal paint; broken-down cells, and, outside, layering moss. However, last Saturday - as the sun peaked through an ominously bleak, rain-threatened Philadelphia day - tourists were in for a real taste of what the life of an inmate was like.
!["Soup Alley," an archival photo. Last weekend featured prison food at Eastern State.](https://www.inquirer.com/resizer/5kwou2HB-cIZb7eVzKYnmqZkYvA=/760x507/smart/filters:format(webp)/arc-anglerfish-arc2-prod-pmn.s3.amazonaws.com/public/YIYC5JZZRFCYBFYIZ3YWEHEC6U.jpg)
Untold truths and strife seem muted in the silent chamber hallways of Eastern State Penitentiary with its aged, cracking teal paint; broken-down cells, and, outside, layering moss. However, last Saturday - as the sun peaked through an ominously bleak, rain-threatened Philadelphia day - tourists were in for a real taste of what the life of an inmate was like.
On a typical weekend day, 800 visitors pass through the penitentiary grounds. Most visitors opt for an audio tour, narrated by Hollywood actor and writer Steve Buscemi. Last weekend, Buscemi or not, visitors also came across three food stations.
Sean Kelley, director of public programming, said he was constantly trying to find new and memorable ways of telling Eastern State's story. He said that when children come to visit, they often ask, "Was it hot? Was it cold? Did they have toilet paper?"
Children are "really into the world of the body" and are "creatures of comforts," Kelley said.
So Kelley and his team decided that recreating the inmates' food might be a draw.
"We know, in great detail, the ingredients purchased here because we know what they spent money on," Kelley said.
He said the prison kept intermittent logs of the meals it served, minus the recipes.
And he hired John Freeman, a correctional officer whose side gig is catering, to recreate the meals, with the understanding that the food should be as bona fide as possible.
The penitentiary set up three stations, each in a different time period, for taste testing in the cell blocks.
It started in the 1830s - a time when prisoners ate in isolation, and the menu included "Indian Mush" - warm cornmeal and salt, often sweetened with molasses - and salted beef, which tasted most like a Jewish deli's least lean corned beef.
Kelley said he liked the mush so much he could eat it every day, and he enjoyed generous samplings, in fact, at every station.
The 20th-century tasting featured hamburger steak, loaded with onions, and Harvard beets (beets with a very heavy vinegar sauce).
The final station offered a 21st-century selection. But, first, some history.
In days past, if an inmate behaved badly he would be fed bread and water as punishment, for a "behavior modified meal." However, the Eighth Amendment, banning cruel and unusual punishment of any citizen, entitles inmates to receive a healthy diet; bread and water do not offer enough nutrition to sustain life.
Which brings us to the 21st-century offering, Nutraloaf, a conglomeration of a bunch of things, often including rice, mashed garbanzo beans, margarine, and shredded cabbage, all packed into one, well - loaf.
Nutraloaf is starchy and heavily processed. Kelley said that though it tastes bland, the loaf has enough nutrition to sustain life for long periods of time: "You can live on it forever."
Nutraloaf recipes vary from state to state. For example, Kelley said Colorado's recipe includes chili and garlic powder.
Here in Pennsylvania, Nutraloaf is designed to have no flavor whatsoever, Kelley said.
"It's meant to be an unpleasant experience," he said. "It's like chewing on air."
The penitentiary had all of the food selections sorted into tiny silver to-go tins with wooden spoons for the tasting; cooks in the past would turn out these foods in excess, making barrels of pickled beef and large vats of mush at one time.
Historically, Kelley said, prisoners ate seasonally: In summer, they would be fed lots of produce; in fall, tons of root veggies; and by winter, prisoners would eat grains and salted meats every single day.
Saturday was the first time since 2003 that the penitentiary hosted a taste-test-type event. Ten years ago, Kelley said, the professional chefs he hired "really struggled" with not making the food taste better than the food the prisoners ate. For example, when recreating polenta, they added duck fat, an ingredient chefs in the 20th century surely wouldn't have added.
Morgan Wolfe and her father, Alden, were among the visitors last weekend. Morgan, a sixth grader, and her father, an attorney in New City, N.Y., were visiting Philadelphia from Rockland County, N.Y.
"It makes me think about how people lived when they did time in prison," said Morgan, "and how they lived in different time periods."
"It's an important part of our society, crime and punishment," her father added. "This is a remarkable restoration, preservation of something that's so integral with our society."