Document text
There was little to crave or snub as Capt. Dan Penland lifted the plastic cover from a Jackson County Jail inmate's lunch. Consisting of a ground sausage patty, two square slices of wheat bread, instant rice, canned peas and applesauce on an insulated tray, the measured portions didn't look particularly filling. "They (inmates) usually don't complain about the quality," says Penland, who oversees corrections operations for the Jackson County Sheriff's Department. Letters written by inmates complaining about the food (or lack thereof) to the Mail Tribune aren't uncommon. Last month, George Allen Savage, who was facing numerous felony charges including arson and criminal mischief, described jail portions as "pathetically lacking." "Yes we are inmates, some guilty, some not," Savage wrote. "We still deserve to be treated humanely and not left hungry after most meals." Is eating at the jail really all that bad? They may not look the most appealing, but inside stacks of brown insulated trays carted to inmates thrice daily are meals meeting budgetary, dietary and state and local standards. All, for security reasons, are edible with a single plastic spoon. Inmates are fed a diet of about 2,700 calories daily in a rotating menu that changes every four weeks. Those at the Jackson County Work Center in Phoenix are fed slightly more, 3,000 calories daily, because they're more active. "It's institutional food that's nutritionally adequate," Penland says. Jail complaints often arise when inmates see empty tray compartments, even if the meal is balanced, he says. One of the jail's more infamous inmates, serial killer Susan Monica, lost a good deal of weight between her January 2014 arrest and April 2015 trial. "As food goes, there are only two things here worth eating," she wrote a Mail Tribune reporter in March 2014. "They are pancakes which are baked in an oven and come out an inch thick, and meatballs I am sure come out of a can." Penland says inmates can lose weight because of the balanced diet, or gain weight because of the chips and snack cakes they can buy from the commissary. Food wasn't a complaint in a grand jury's annual inspection, in which two inmates were interviewed. Both described the food at the jail as "acceptable" and "OK." One female inmate told inspectors she "realizes it's jail and not expecting it to be a 5-star restaurant." Inspectors were served the exact same lunch inmates were during the March 7 inspection. The jail's menu and preparation are overseen by Aramark Corp., which provides food, laundry and uniform services for about 500 correctional institutions across the country, as well as hospitals and schools. Aramark develops the menu, approved by jail staff, then purchases ingredients and orchestrates the inmate laborers. Each meal costs an average $1.28. The kitchen is run like a restaurant, although refrigerators and sharp instruments are kept under lock and key. There are two registered dietitians on Aramark's staff. They develop the menu based on parameters set by the jail, according to Aramark Vice President of Corporate Communications Karen Cutler. The menu meets standards of the American Corrections Association, which sets guidelines for nutrition and dietary exchanges. The ACA guidelines are more specific than state law, which requires inmates and prisoners be "well fed," be served three meals daily at regular times, and go no more than 14 hours between meals. State law also requires inmates' food be served, prepared and stored under "sanitary conditions." For the kitchen inside the Jackson County Jail, which prepares 9,000 meals a week for the jail, Juvenile Detention Center and Jackson County Work Center, sanitation means compliance with the same regulations that restaurants and commercial kitchens on the outside follow. The two most recent Jackson County Environmental Public Health inspections, in March and September last year, yielded scores of 97 out of a possible 100. All scores available since 2014 have been in the 90s. Utensils used in food preparation, such as spatulas, stirrers and scoops, are inventoried three times a day by corrections deputies, plus once a day by Aramark staff. Sharp utensils, such as knives, are watched even more closely. If an ingredient needs to be chopped, such as the cole slaw served male inmates Tuesday, the knife is tethered to a padlock on a metal counter. Between uses, the metal instruments are stored in a locked cabinet in the Aramark manager's office. Shows such as "Orange is the New Black" popularize the notion that inmate workers tamper with inmates' food. Penland says there have been isolated incidents in the past, but as a rule it doesn't happen. "If they mess with that, they mess with their own food," Penland says. Inside the kitchen Tuesday, after all lunch trays were distributed, an inmate worker freely helped himself to two hot dogs and a piece of bread. Inmate workers in the kitchen do eat better, Penland says. They get the privilege in part as incentive, but also because the exactly measured tray portions leave leftovers that don't easily keep. All trays of food must be uniform. Corrections deputies distribute the meals to inmates in common areas between 6 and 6:30 a.m. for breakfast, between 11 and 11:30 a.m. for lunch and 5:30 and 6 p.m for dinner. Although inmate workers assist, deputies ensure that each inmate is handed a tray. The jail accommodates inmates' dietary restrictions because of allergies or religion, and no meats served inmates are pork products. Some dietary needs raise eyebrows, such as claimed allergies to peas. "People get some weird allergies when they're in jail," Penland says. Penland says that inmates are free to trade the food they're served as long as it's done willingly. Staff intervenes if food was exchanged because of gambling or out of intimidation or coercion. County policy allows the jail to serve Nutraloaf, a nutritious but unpleasant baked food similar to meatloaf that's edible without utensils. In practice, however, Penland says Nutraloaf has been used only "once or twice" because it has to be made special and doesn't keep. "We have rarely used that," Penland says. Even when inmates misbehave? Penland says inmates who throw food are denied a hot meal and instead served sandwiches, often made with peanut butter or chopped lunch meat such as bologna. Others, such as those on suicide watch, are handed delicate single-use spoons made of paper. "Food itself is not used as punishment," Penland says. Reach reporter Nick Morgan at 541-776-4471 or [email protected]. Follow him on Twitter at @MTCrimeBeat.