the fruits of our labor

Having returned from our New Jersey excursion several weeks prior with a 3-pound log [Amanda: Meg, I believe it’s called a schlong. No kidding, I believe it is.] of Taylor Ham in tow, Amanda and I set out to introduce the chefs at No. 7 (the restaurant we both work at) to this salty, porky object of our affections.Amidst Saturday morning brunch preparations – biscuit baking, egg whisking, Bloody Mary mixing – I took my first turn at cooking in the restaurant’s high-end kitchen, albeit with some pretty low ingredients. With pork roll, a loaf of Wonder Bread, and yellow American cheese in my arsenal, I set out to convert Tyler, Gabe, and Petey to the wonder that is a Taylor Ham and cheese sandwich.

I sliced the roll into about 30 slices, each approximately one-quarter inch thick, made radiating slits at each slice’s perimeter, pan-fried them in their own (plentiful) grease until nice and brown, and stacked them atop fluffy slices of white bread layered with cheese. In the future, I would toast the bread, but I was trying to create as little commotion as possible and not burn myself and risk humiliation in the company of seasoned cooks.

the guts of the sandwiches

The resulting sandwiches were as good as I remember from my youth: cheese melty from the hot pork roll, the caramelized crust of the meat providing a little contrast to its saltiness and a little crunch around the edges. Amanda assembled two giant platters of sandwiches that fed the entire staff of dishwashers, bus boys, porter, cooks and servers.

I have a hunch that the boys liked them. A Taylor Ham, Arugula, Cheddar & Tomato Omelette just made its debut on No. 7’s brunch menu. Sweet.

Xoxo Meg

Tags: New Jersey, Sandwiches, Taylor Ham

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