Prison life has gotten even more precarious for the bad apples at Baltimore, Maryland's Correctional Center. Hoping to quell the rebellious behavior of some inmates, corrections officers have developed the "meal management loaf," a punitive dish that hits unruly convicts squarely in the pits of their stomachs.
Most inmates line up three times a day for standard prison-cafeteria fare. But when a prisoner becomes violent—setting fire to a cell or hurling unspeakables on security guards, for example—he enters a behavior-modification program, lands in solitary confinement and confronts "The Loaf" three times a day.
Served at room temperature with a glass of water, the one-pound loaf, although nutritionally dense, works its behavioral magic through sheer lack of appeal. "I would say the management loaf is more bland than bad," comments Richard West, director of Correctional Food Services for the Maryland Department of Public Safety and Correctional Services.
West and his staff concoct the loaves from whole-wheat breadcrumbs, imitation cheese, raw carrots, canned spinach, beans and raisins. In fact, he compares the loaf, in both taste and nutrition, to some of the power bars available in health-food stores. "People pay big money for the same thing and they call it high-end living," West chuckles.
But does it work? Not always, West admits. "Putting buckshot into these loaves wouldn't reform some of these individuals who get their jollies by seeing what they can do to the system."
For jailbirds with more sensitive palates, however, the monotony of the loaf in the monotony of solitary confinement takes its toll. Twenty-one loaves after their behavior, most remorseful convicts find themselves grateful to return to the flavors and everyday delicacies of the prison-cafeteria steam table.