Martha Stewart's Sing Sing Prison Bitch Diary:
The Missing First Pages: Part Three
Words cannot convey the abysmal "cuisine" they "serve" at this facility.
Were it not for Elizabeth smuggling in an occasional baguette or those lovely, long knackwursts she seems to enjoy so much, I would have perished.
I can barely face writing what I must describe, but I must, for if I try to hold my horror inside, I fear it will cause facial lines.
Breakfast consists of offal that even common swine would avoid. Their porridge, which of course they call, "oat n' meal," is prepared with sheer thoughtlessness. No blueberries, brown sugar, butter curls, cream, nor even a common raisin is added to the horrid, lukewarm gruel.
Eggs are of highly questionable origin.
I suspect from their green tinge they are pigeon eggs, harvested from the rafters of condemned crack houses in Brooklyn. Not only are they inferior, they are desiccated and must be reconstituted with water. As if!
Desperate residents sprinkle them with, brace yourself, highly coveted pulverized bouillon cubes to enhance the nauseating flavor.
And with breakfast, do they serve scones, croissant, bagels or even rye toast? Certainly not! They provide untoasted white bread. No marmalade or preserves, no cinnamon, nor even a speck of lowly margarine! It is barbaric!
Luncheon is worse. A common, generic hamburger bun is assaulted with a layer of some type of boiled, pre-formed ground animal flesh. Condiments are nonexistent. Accompanying this daily monstrosity is a tiny packet of wilted celery strips and livestock quality carrots.
Dinner, my dear heavens, surpasses even the other meals in its atrocity.
Starchy, glutinous pasta is smothered in starchy, glutinous sauce, presumably to hide the mystery flesh that lurks within. Green, leafy vegetables are as rare as beluga caviar in this chamber of horrors.
One knows life has become sheer hell when something called "Chili Mac" is the most palatable dish.
I simply cannot go any further in this painful narrative. I haven't the strength.