If I told you it was the closest I’d come to an orgasm tonight; that may be an understatement.
Taylor Ham is one of those things I choose to not want to know the ingredients of.
It’s sort of a salty mix between bacon, sausage, ham and bologna in thin 8/10 of an ounce slices.
I’m sure if I was to take a tour of the Taylor Ham factory in Trenton, New Jersey, I’d quickly change my mind about the certifiably Garden State delicacy.
Sure, you can get pork roll in Pennsylvania supermarkets; but I know for a FACT that we can’t find real deal and genuine Taylor Ham anywhere in the Commonwealth’s borders.
See, growing up in Northeast Jersey, there were two breakfast options.
Either a bagel with cream cheese or a Taylor Ham, Egg and Cheese with either a medium coffee in the blue “New York City” coffee cups, a YooHoo or an OJ of some sort.
Tie it all up with a copy of the Daily News and it’s a great morning.
My parents came down to see Kai and I this weekend. They make it out here a few times a year and each time my Dad calls before they leave, he asks if I need anything from home.
I guess that I’ve finally arrived at the point that all I need from home anymore is some good bagels from Goldbergs on Route 17, Parmesan cheese from Visentini Brothers in Lodi and some Taylor Ham from the Shop Rite.
Life is good.