The Economics of Ramen

Of all the things that exchange hands in the jails and prisons across the United States, ramen is by far the most ubiquitous. You might think it’s drugs like spice, or smutty pics, or even fists themselves. However, despite the multitude of division found inside those walls, common ground can be found within a single packet of top ramen.

There was a period of time not incredibly long ago when a single ramen packet cost $0.15 at most prison commissaries. It was, by weight, the cheapest available source of calories in the carceral economy. Nowadays, there are numerous items offered at a lower price, but none to replace the packet of ramen as the staple currency. In 2022, at Snohomish County Jail, one ramen cost me $0.58. Once I officially entered the Department of Corrections, a 24-pack cost between $8.50 and $9.00, bringing the cost down to roughly $0.35 each.

Due to our financial situation growing up, we ate a lot of ramen. I remember when they cost $0.10 per pack. It’s interesting to acknowledge that was the only thing a single mom could afford to feed her kid with a minimum wage job in the late 90s and early 2000s, yet incarcerated individuals who are paid less than one dollar per hour on average are expected to be able to afford this.

Incarcerated individuals who are paid less than one dollar per hour on average are expected to be able to afford this.

What ramen does

Most importantly, ramen and the surprisingly large number of ways it can be prepared acts as the base for some of the best meals I had during my time. Unsurprisingly, it was the base for the worst too.

Beyond actually using it for its intended purpose, ramen pays for haircuts. Ramen pays for your laundry to not go missing. Ramen pays for stamps. Ramen pays for a phone call. Ramen may even buy you time on a debt you can’t cover yet.

The only soundbite I heard more than “cease movement, cease movement” or “yard it for count” is “hey bro, can I get a soup?”

Why it works

Three properties make ramen the dominant unit of carceral exchange.

First: it is shelf-stable. A ramen on your shelf today is a ramen on your shelf in eight months. Honestly, probably eight years. Although I wouldn’t want to test that.

Second: it is universally desired. Every inmate eats. Most inmates are hungry most of the time, because the food the facility serves you is atrocious. The thing every inmate wants to do, in their cell, in the hour between count and lights-out, is eat something hot.

Third: it is interchangeable. Soup costs vary slightly by flavor — chicken or beef is the standard, shrimp commands a small premium amongst certain folk, while most individuals seem to unanimously hate spicy vegetable — but the ramen as an economic unit is flavor-blind.

An economist’s name for this is “money.” We just call it soup.