Y’all can’t get more “local” than an alcoholic product that’s made and consumed all in one place, and I’m not talking about the output of micro-breweries. I refer to operations that are much, much smaller, say 6’x8’ … with facilities as close as your toilet. Pruno (aka juice, jump, chalk, buck, and hooch) is hoosegow homebrew: made in prison by and — God help ‘em — for prisoners.

America has the largest incarcerated population (USA! — We’re #1!), so in the interest of being prepared, here’s a brief guide to imbibing behind the other kind of bars.

The basic recipe for producing jail “wine” is simple: fill a plastic bag with anything sweet, from stewed prunes (hence the name “pruno”) to cake frosting. Add yeast (or even moldy bread) and hot water. Ferment for “up to” nine days. The result is a stinking, orange-to-maroon liquid that may make you sick but will get you buzzed. It’s so prevalent in American lockups that some administrators have banned all fruit. Ever-resourceful inmate vintners have responded by concocting the libation from jelly, ketchup, soft drinks, and even sauerkraut as a way to get “pickled.”

Illegal alcohol is an omnipresent and uncontrolled staple in American hard-time joints. In Ireland, where social life frequently is the pub, former inmate Joe Doherty said big house brewing is taken all the way to distillation. He explained that after starting with a pruno-type mixture, “a water boiler was set up in one of the sanitaries away from the preying eyes of guards. Twelve pints of the drained fruity mash were poured into the boiler,” then the lid, venting, and drainage pipe were sealed “using wetted bread.” Thirsty prisoners on all-night shifts kept an eye on the processing. “It was important to check on the selected workers as well,” Doherty continued, “due to the deep urges, particularly during the wee small hours, to have a quick taste of the uisce beatha (water of life in Irish).” According to Doherty, the deoch (or poitin) was even legal at certain times of the year (sort of). “Next to tunnel escapes,” he added, “the making of the Christmas deoch (prounounced ‘jock’) was a military imperative.”

For all their danger and inherent foulness, prison brews remain a source of lore, fascination and even inspiration. Even the American Homebrewer’s Association had a professionally judged pruno-making competition at one of their national conventions.

Jarvis Masters, a San Quentin inmate, wrote a poem called “Recipe for Prison Pruno,” which alternates quotations taken from the death sentence handed down to him by a judge with detailed instructions for the manufacture of penal potion. The elegy ends with words appropriate to judgment or imbibing prison brew: “May God have mercy on your soul.”

A summary of the benefits of klink drink can be found in the brutal bible of incarceration survival, “You Are Going to Prison.” Author Jim Hogshire aptly describes the horrible swills, but, in his concluding coda, reflects “… in hell, this is all you get.” White Lightnin’ is ambrosia by comparison. And where there’s a still, they’re a way.

Read Jarvis’s poem, “Recipe for Prison Pruno,” here.