Time for some work.

When I’ve neglected something for a significant period it’s sometimes difficult to find my way back in. But I think I’ve waited enough… And I’m hungry now. And if the best way to start any new day’s effort is breakfast, then why not the same for this post?

“You got any Taylor Pork Roll?” I asked at the Giant in Columbia Heights.

“Taylor pork rope?”

“No ROLL. It’s like Canadian Bacon… except it’s not.”

I’d say one in 10 guys working the meat case around here have even heard of the stuff.  The smoked pork loin frequently employed in Eggs Benedict make pork roll look more like scrapple so it wasn’t a great comparison.   To conjure a better description think pig in a blender with a mix of mystery spices and lots of nitrites for a rosy pink hue.   It’s not health food, but it’s got an appeal.  Just ask anyone from the Garden State where the majority of Taylor products are sold.

Outside of Jersey it’s a hard, but not impossible find.  I stumbled across it at the Harris Teeter near Meridian Hill the last time I went hunting.  Why am I so obsessed with a little red box that explains simply to “Heat -n- eat”?

I wish I had a litany of childhood breakfast memories I could tell to resurrect nostalgic memories of parents with the paper, eggs on the stove and pancakes kept warm in the oven, but that’s someone elses breakfast story. My childhood breakfasts centered around a green Tupperware bowl big enough to hold half a box of honeycomb and close to a pint of milk.

But every Christmas my mother would resurrect one of her own breakfast memories. One cultivated in a State well known for its exemplary culinary achievement and tradition.  A slice of Taylor Pork Roll, an egg fried over easy, a slice of American cheese.  It’s not a beautiful food but it hits the spot and is a nice tradition.  Even if it’s a little out of place for a kid who grew up on the Eastern Shore.

A requisite notch at 12, 3, 6, and 9 O’clock like these guys will help each slice lay flat.  Try it.