"Inmates think about food, talk about food, dream about food. Not that most of us are fainting from hunger or malnutrition--most of us are getting larger everyday--but we seem motivated by a sense of deprivation. We, therefore, eat as much as possible, whenever possible, just in case.

We also cook elaborate dinner parties without utensils, pots or bowls, or without any essential or normal ingredients. We use hot but not boiling water, potato chips bags and a small assortment of junk food. From this we create antipasto plates, pizzas, pasta of all kinds, chilis, rice dishes, scalloped au gratin potatoes, burritos, cakes, cookies, fudge, a wide assortment of sculpted handmade candies and bon bons....

Our creativity knows no bounds when it comes to satisfying our stomachs. Nor are we selfish with our knowledge. We share techniques, methods and recipes freely with others who admire our tasty concoctions and ingenuity. More than this our energy is limitless in the preparation of these feasts. I, an average Jane, on more than one occasion, have spent eight hours on handmade sweets with a relentless concentration that I have never applied to anything else in my life. And I had a roommate a few years ago who spent 12 hours conjuring up a cake for a party to which neither of us were invited.

Other than the obvious conclusions that we're gluttons driven by our food fantasies, and that food is the only thing we feel we can control and is one of the few means by which we can explore and express our individuality, I am impressed by our hospitality. After studiously avoiding involvement with sororities at UVa (I was just plain silly), I am now an active member of a sisterhood of hospitality.

This weekend my cellmate and I are hosting a party in honor of an older resident. I am trying out a new recipe for petits fours, and my roommate has created a thematic table ensemble from brightly colored construction paper.

The success of the party, however, will not depend on our elaborate preparations. It is the party motivated by kindness and nourished by generosity and laughter that is successful.

I learned this lesson early when an invited guest spotted lonely-looking souls and included them to my party. This spontaneous kindness puffed me up with offense. I whined, 'I cooked for nine and 12 showed! Who are they to invite those people to my party?' But I discovered that even when food disasters strike our parties don't flop. One of my best-ever feasts was the time when I, cooking meat in an illegal fashion, thought the officer was coming and, in my panic, threw dinner in the trash.

In the midst of the laughter and camaraderie, I learned that the art of being a good hostess is not in the techniques of social maneuvering or clever small talk but in the heart of making others feel welcome and special. It is not the guest list of the food that creates hospitality but the size of the host's welcome. Only then is hunger satisfied." (Elizabeth Haysom, Fluvanna Review, June 12, 2003).

Elizabeth Haysom is presently incarcerated at the Fluvanna Correctional Center for Women in Troy, Virginia. She is serving a 90 year sentence as an accessory to the murder of her parents in 1985. This column was first printed as part of a series, under the general heading 'Glimpses from Inside.'