By Rebecca Goldfine,Staff Writer

PARIS – He declares he would never serve anything he wouldn’t eat.

And so out the barred window flies the old tale that jailhouse food consists of some colorless mound of unidentifiable grub slopped down on a tray, perhaps with some over-sweetened canned pears on the side.

Peter Rogers, who has been cooking meals at Oxford County Jail for a decade, said recently, “We try to serve a decent meal in a poor environment, and try to make it as healing as possible.”

Of course, the inmates might not always agree, Rogers admitted, sitting in the small jail pantry stacked with economy-sized cans. “Most of the guys are meat-and-potato guys. When they come in here, they have salads and fruit.”

And perhaps some hunger pangs, too, he added, with a teeny twinkle forming around his eyes. At the government-mandated 2,800 calories a day, some are eating half of what they are used to, unless they spend liberally on snacks at the commissary, which has caused not just a few to walk out of jail a touch heftier, according to jail staff.

But Ernie Martin, the jail’s administrator, said that since Rogers took over the kitchen, the number of food complaints has dropped to almost zero. It used to be that first thing in the morning, “You could hear a din of discontent when you went into the jail,” Martin said.

And having good, basic food – Rogers’ lasagna is reportedly a big hit with jail employees – goes a long way to making inmates, who might tend toward glumness, a little less miserable. “Don’t underestimate it,” Martin said, about the power of jailhouse food on moods.

Not that Rogers gets accolades from the prisoners. “I can’t say I’ve heard that directly,” he said when asked if any inmates thank him personally.

Looking at the amount the jail spends on groceries could make one marvel that the cuisine manages to be tasty, let alone edible. Rogers said he serves more than 40,000 meals a year at close to $1.30 a tray. These prices keep the county commissioners, in charge of the county budget, quite satisfied, according to Martin.

But his tight allowance doesn’t deter Rogers from trying to spruce up the fairly standard fare, he said. Drawing on his artistic sensibilities, he attempts to present meals enticingly on the trays.

Rogers said he dabbles in photography and watercolors. His wife is also an art teacher at the Oxford Elementary School. Rogers has two grown children: his daughter teaches high school French and his son cooks at a Pennsylvania college.

Originally from Malden, Mass., Rogers said he enrolled in a federal chef training program in his 20s, and then worked at the Marriott Hotel chain for 18 years, before moving to Maine to work at Green Mountain Coffee Roasters for eight years.

In the early 1980s, he and his wife built their home in Otisfield. Rogers said that when he began to grow weary of the travel required of his operations manager position with Green Mountain, he started hunting for a local job.

He applied for the chef position at the jail, he said, with no reservations about the population he would be feeding. But he admitted the clanging of the metal doors jarred him.

“At first it [bothered me], but I have a key. It makes a little difference,” he said.

Occasionally, inmates will help out in the kitchen, telling their stories over peeled carrots. “I’ve learned a lot of things you’re not supposed to do,” Rogers said, his already wide-open eyes opening a little more.

“I thought of writing a book,” he said, called, Recipes from the Big House. It would include menu recipes as well as tips on being a successful bookie or how to smuggle cigarettes into the cellblocks, he joked.

Certainly, it would include stories of the inmates he’s met.

“They’re ordinary people who have stepped over the line,” Rogers said. “A lot of them will talk about their situation and what’s going on in their lives.”

They’ll listen, too, he said. “There’s a lot of opportunities to talk to them about their problems and push them in a different direction.”

Rogers’ kitchen is not quite Oprah Winfrey’s television studio, or a priest’s confessional, and it doesn’t serve your everyday French fusion, but it’s not half-bad either, both for the little bit of camaraderie and sympathy you can find there, as well as for the pretty good chow.

“It’s probably not as satisfying as fast food,” Martin said, “but it’s healthy for you.”