T
he sign at the front gate — near the traffic circle and diagonally
across the street from the forbidding walls of the state reforma-
tory — is unequivocal: "Northeastern Correctional Center," it reads.
Concord residents know that it's not a place where students'
MCAS exams are graded. It's where certain people end up whom,
having flunked that very special part of life called "trial by jury,"
discover they are in jail — sometimes for an extended period of
time. But inscribed in the margins of this daunting scenario positive
notes can be found.
"The Farm," as it has been called since its inception as an agricul-
tural work-rehabilitation prison in the 1930s, is now a minimum-
security facility featuring pre-release programs. For the inmates
incarcerated here, who also include those doing short sentences (or
"bits" in the parlance of those imprisoned), there is now something
to very much look forward to. One of these things is the culinary
arts program run by minimum security inmates with the direction
of a culinary instructor.
S P R I N G / S U M M E R 2 0 1 5
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north bridge magazine
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23
Freedom
Deep within the confines
of a state prison in Concord,
a culinary surprise awaits.
S TO R Y A N D P H OTO G R A P H Y BY PETER GOLDEN