Pizza, fried chicken, doughnuts.

Once a month at my Missouri prison, in what is commonly referred to as a “sales project,” we can order food from an outside restaurant. The sales projects are put on by prisoner-run organizations such as the prison chapters of NAACP and Vietnam Veterans of America.

The revenue raised helps fund our organizations. Frequently these organizations, which anyone can join by paying membership dues, donate proceeds of the sales project to places like the local food bank and St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.

For each sales project, the organizations’ members vote on what food to order.

I’m currently in restricted housing, or solitary confinement, where we can’t place food orders. But I have in the past, and I still occasionally hear my neighbor talking to his cellie about which sales project fried chicken is better: Popeyes or Lee’s Famous Recipe Chicken. I lean toward Popeyes.

At Popeyes, we can order a chicken sandwich for $9 and a nine-piece box meal for $18. Orders can get rather pricey. The prison adds a fee to each food item we order, which can range from $2 to $4, depending on the restaurant’s location. The fee is intended to cover gas for the staff who pick up the order.

Not everyone can afford to buy food, as our state prison jobs only pay cents per hour. I have used money from my family to buy food in the past. (The state does provide a monthly “tip” to make sure people can at least buy hygiene items. But it’s only $10, not enough to cover most food items.)

There is a month’s delay before delivery. This gives everyone a chance to order and the prison time to prepare for all the food that’s been ordered.

Some prisons limit how much food you can buy. For example, at Jefferson City Correctional Center, where I reside, one person may spend up to $60 on a sales project. But at Southeast Correctional Center in Charleston, where I used to reside, there is no limit. 

In addition to the high prices, another downside is we typically have no way to keep the food from spoiling. That means we have to eat our food the same day it arrives — usually already lukewarm or cold. There are some exceptions, like doughnuts and cake, that you don’t have to eat immediately.

My favorite sales project food is pizza, in part because I can eat it cold or hot. I don’t care where the pizza is from, although I am partial to Domino’s. I follow “college rules” and keep my pizza for two days.

Over the last decade I have ordered food from Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, Papa Johns, Firehouse Subs and Dunkin’.

Biting into a slice of pizza or a crunchy piece of chicken is bittersweet. It’s so tasty and flavorful, but also a reminder of how bad the food is here. Our institutional food comes from Aramark — a company that seems to have forgotten seasoning exists. 

For example, sausage pizza from Aramark is of extremely poor quality when compared to Pizza Hut sausage pizza. Aramark’s pizza is rectangular, flat and tastes like cardboard. It is reminiscent of my old school lunch pizza.

Orders arrive in waves across three days to give establishments time to cook all the food and the prison time to pass it out.

Waiting on food can be challenging, but well worth it. Delivery day is like a childhood Christmas. Eyes remain peeled for the white minivan delivering food. Hundreds of people line up to pick up their order. If someone didn’t order food, their cellie will often share; it’s considered proper etiquette.

After food is eaten, most people fall into a food coma and nap.

Not all state prison systems have a sales project like Missouri’s, but Missouri doesn’t allow us to have care packages sent from home. As much as I enjoy them, I would still have taken pieces of home over restaurant food any day.