So, in the dream, my sister, Cheri, was outraged by the audacity of my complaint. She became quite upset, which is her bent to do even in "real-life": Apparently, she felt that I had no call to complain, because she knew for a fact that the food we were served in prison met the highest nutrition standards, and was considered very palatable by most other standards. Even in the dream I could not argue with her "facts".
The truth is, in "real-life" the food we are served is "compliant" with many rigidly set "standards". But that does not change my personal assessment of the general quality or palatability of it. This dream made me realize that it's not really the food quality that offends me so much; it's the complete lack of any "caring" involved in the way it is prepared and served.
The potatoes are usually unwashed and never peeled, much less do they ever have the "bad spots" cut out the way even military standards require (which I know well because I received military training as a cook in a summer-youth employment program as a teen, and I also worked as a cook in prison in the 1980s, back when we actually used Army recipes and procedures to prepare and cook prison food). The fruit is usually over or under ripe, bruised and damaged, so that as much as I like fruit, even damaged fruit, I end up throwing about half of the "fresh fruit" we get in the trash. The "hot" food is almost invariably barely even warm, and is frequently served at room temperature (against well known serving standards). And on, and on...
I could write pages about everything they do "wrong" with the food here, but the point that this dream seemed to emphasize was that it's not that the food is so "bad", as much as that it could be so much BETTER! If "they" only cared enough to prepare it and serve it correctly. But, they don't. So, I call it "Ramen and garbage", because that's how it makes me feel when I get the trays they hand me and remove the lid. It's like removing the lid of a trash can in some alley behind a nice restaurant. Yes, the food is "perfectly good", and even "good quality", as any experienced dumpster-diver will tell you. But it's still garbage. And in prison these days it is also garbage, simply because of the lack of caring in how it is prepared and served. But, like the dumpster-diver, I am genuinely grateful to have it; sad, but true.
[J.D. December 28, 2016]
P.S. On the small metal desk (15x30 inches) bolted to the wall in my cell, where I usually sit to eat from the "garbage pails" they give us, there is now a bruised banana from breakfast, and two mismatched halves of an unripened "seasonal fruit" pear of some variety with red skin that we got in the lunch pail. I washed the pear halves and wrapped them in plastic hoping they will ripen a bit before the air spoils them. The pears were served inconsiderately on top of sliced onions, with the open flesh of the pears directly against the onions, so even if they do ripen enough to eat they won't taste very good --- like what you'd expect them to taste if they came from a garbage can.
And the banana is so badly bruised and turning black along the sides, probably from being handled roughly in the crates, that it is unlikely there will be a piece inside when I open it large enough to make a mouthful that isn't pure mush. Again, this is exactly what you would expect to find in a garbage can where a restaurant or grocery store disposes of the food no longer usable for serving their customers. And I'm saving the banana, and the pear, for the same reason; because when I get hungry later tonight, I know they'll both be much more appetizing, and I'll be all the more grateful to have them.
