It isn’t all peaches and cream here, so to speak, so even though I’m going to talk a little about my culinary arts cooking class, I don’t want anyone to get the idea that it is “peaches and cream” in prison. It doesn’t mean this is easy. It is so hard, so, so hard.
But I have to say that the smell of homemade cookie dough or a 7-Up pound cake is delicious. We made something the other day to go with the spaghetti and Italian sausage-- Italian Christmas cookies. They were nice.
Right now the class is learning about salads and salad dressings, but since this is prison and since our teacher doesn’t really have all the pretty colors of the salad bar for us to work with, we may bake once a week. So the sweet smell of cookies, the colors of fruits and veggies don't often fill this blog.
This is prison, a big room where 124 guys mill together daily. No pretty colors here, no sweet smells. Even the dining hall has horrible smells. I try to avoid the place where we eat. My “place”—where I lose the stink of prison and prison life—is outside on the recreation yard in a little space down wind where I can sit or walk and taste the clean of the breeze, watch the colors of the sky, look at the green of the trees before they turn. And every once in awhile I see a yellow butterfly—or a black one. These are just little moments to enjoy because the reality is, this is prison: the colors are dull, the smells are stale, and it has a taste you really wouldn't want in your mouth.
So I enjoy the sweet smell of cookies and cake when we have them. I enjoy tasting the little pieces of dough I get to pinch once a week. It keeps me going until I get my chance to be out in the world again where everything looks colorful, most things smell good, and you can taste what you want to taste...Now that to me is delicious...Soon...
Hugs,
Arthur
