Ok, I have to admit, I’ve eaten in a jail. Yes, the jail was in Illinois and wasn’t really a jail any more. It was too small. These days you need a really large jail in the US. Everyone here is a crook. We commit heinous crimes like listening to music downloaded from the internet or having a swarthy complexion while bitching about the government. Anyway, they made a restaurant inside this jail where you could sit cozily inside a cell, waiting for your gruel. I had some.
Then Martha blogged about the Voltera Prison Restaurant. I had no idea that the castle of Voltera even held prisoners, much less had a place to eat inside for people who haven’t murdered anyone. In a sense, it’s like the castle intrigue of the middle ages had returned.
Evidently in his past, the chef butchered someone. Maybe that’s why the signature dishes are all vegetarian. Or maybe they make him use those silly plastic knives that they give you now on airplanes to cut stuff, and an overripe zucchini is about all this junky plastic crap can manage to slice through. The restaurant patrons have to use plastic utensils, too. What fun.
I wonder, with all the great restaurants in Italy, why folks would take the trouble to empty their pockets, undergo a stiff security check, and pass through a metal detector in order to eat vegetables cooked by crooks overseen by a chef who couldn’t fry an egg before entering the program?
Novelty. We crave novelty. I suppose that’s a good thing. Socially I mean. People getting out of Voltera prison might get a job slinging amatriciana to the masses, and that can’t be a bad thing, can it? Compared to murder I mean.
Pork fat rules. Murder not so much.