Breakfast, lunch, and a brighter future

It could happen in any restaurant. A customer knocks over a glass of soda, dousing his tablemate and the floor. Two waiters quickly appear with towels. "Don't worry about it. Not a problem," says one calmly. In moments, the puddle is gone and the waiters return to their duties, the picture of professionalism.

This scene would be unremarkable in most restaurants. For the waiters at the Mates Inn in Trenton, N.J., however, it represents a striking transformation. They, like the kitchen staff, had little or no restaurant experience when they began working at this cozy eatery with the burgundy drapes and tablecloths. Most had never worked with the public or set a table with china plates.

What the men, all in their 20s, do have are troubled pasts and arrest records. All are serving time at the Garden State Youth Correctional Facility.

But with the help of the chef/teachers at Mates Inn, which is run by the New Jersey Department of Corrections, they're gaining new, more positive convictions about themselves. They are also learning marketable skills and serving the kind of meals that keep customers coming back.

And come they do: a group of white-haired women. Two employees from the Department of Corrections. Someone who works in a nearby state office. Where else, they say, could you get stuffed pork loin, a baked potato, and broccoli in a light sauce for $5? Chocolate decadence cake for $2? Pancakes and bacon for $3.50?

"You can't find better food anywhere," says Gene Pryor, who eats here once a week. "The specials are awesome, and the desserts are all homemade."

Sue Bower, who works in the area, agrees. "This place is as good as any small local restaurant. The service is good, very courteous," she says. Like many patrons, she raves about the crisp, perfectly salted French fries.

Such comments delight Mark Saxton, head chef and teacher. He and two other instructors work side by side with the 14 inmates, teaching them every aspect of restaurant work.

The men, who must be in the last 18 months of their sentence, sign a four-month contract. During that time, they take four 90-minute classes a week, in addition to their hands-on work. (The only thing they don't do is handle money. Customers pay with special debit cards that they buy from a machine. Tipping is not allowed. )

Upon completion, inmates earn 15 credits toward a high school diploma. They also receive a certificate in culinary arts from the Burlington County Institute of Technology.

Few men drop out of the program, says Mr. Saxton. Most appreciate the intensive training they receive, even if they hadn't considered culinary work before.

They also like eating two meals a day at the restaurant, which serves 50 to 100 customers each weekday. Once a month, when the eatery offers a buffet for $7.50, the line stretches out the door.

With so much practice, the men begin to gain confidence, which is key to their future success, says Saxton. "You can teach anybody to cook, but for them to flourish, they need to have confidence that they can use those skills."

That self-assuredness often comes faster in the kitchen than in the dining room. New waiters, uneasy about dealing with the public, tend to rush courses or bring the bill too soon.

Yet patrons and DOC staff see a noticeable change over time.

Ms. Bower, the French-fry fan, has watched one waiter blossom. "This young man never said anything, but we recognized and acknowledged him, and he started to open up," she says. "Later he'd stop by and say hello when he was working at other tables."

"In the beginning, they have to find their own," says Saxton. "They have to get their swagger."

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