What Debate?
“Pork Roll” is the proper name. Right?
Nothing is more quintessentially “Jersey” than sitting down in a diner — or walking into your local Krauszer’s or WaWa in the early morning hours (or whenever you want, really) — to order a pork roll, egg, and cheese on a roll, “Saltpepperketchup?” being the only matter open to personal preference. Unless, of course… you hail from points up north, in which case you substitute the term “pork roll” with “Taylor ham.”
Yes, it’s the same, exact sandwich. (Or, rather, inimitable culinary delight.) What the what?
Those up north who claim that “Taylor Ham” as the correct moniker really — and I mean really — don’t want to hear anyone calling it “Pork roll.” It truly is fighting words for them. Proponents of the term “Pork Roll,” for their part, generally seem to have more of a jokey laissez faire attitude about it all. (But, it seems, they all universally claim to recall the exact moment — generally in early adulthood — when they learned that others actually call it something else. “What?!” they all claim to have shouted when they first heard of this other name. “I thought Taylor Ham was, well… ham.” What classifies as ham is actually the primary reason everything got all effed 100+ years ago, but more on that in a bit.)
“Pork roll vs. Taylor ham” is a fiercely contested debate in the Jerz — an apparently nationally recognized one too, given President Obama’s shout out during his Rutgers commencement address in 2016. “I come here for a simple reason,” he said that May, “to finally settle this Pork Roll vs. Taylor Ham question.” Naturally greeted with huge laughs and cheers/jeers, he waited for the shouts to die down and continued, “I’m just kidding. There’s not much I’m afraid to take on in my final year of office, but I know better than to get in the middle of that debate.” Very wise, POTUS.
The invention of this incomparable processed product—its distinctive smoky, fatty flavor makes it a true delicacy—is officially credited to John Taylor of Trenton, who originally marketed it as “Taylor’s Prepared Ham” in 1856. (Did you know Taylor also became a politician who represented Mercer County in the New Jersey Senate in the 1880s?) Carrying on… Competitors eventually entered the market, such as Belle Mead farmer and butcher George Washington Case, who began selling his own special recipe for this very special commodity which he called “pork roll” in 1870 (then wrapped in corn husks). Fights ensued.
In 1906, the Pure Food and Drug Act determined that Taylor’s product failed to meet the legal definition of “ham,” newly defined as a cut of meat from a pig, specifically. Thus, Taylor was obliged to rename his product, which he henceforth marketed as “Taylor’s Pork Roll” (and also “Trenton Pork Roll”).
The legal battles weren't over, though. Finding himself competing with products with names like "Rolled Pork" and "Trenton-style Pork Roll,” John Taylor then attempted to trademark the term “pork roll,” and was told in 1910 that he could not. Such litigious beginnings might explain why there remain such sharp contentions. Angst like this tends to reverberate. And so here we are.
Still, though, it’s unclear why southern Jerseyans, particularly those from Trenton, are the ones insisting on the term “pork roll,” whereas North Jerseyans have emerged as the apparent ham-seekers, clinging ever-dearly to the John Taylor’s legacy. Trentonites (and, actually, anyone living in, say, Union County and below) should be the ones clinging to the original “Taylor Ham” name. Nope. It’s all “Pork Roll” all the way in Central Jersey and below. Go figure.
It’s worth noting that Dunkin Donuts attempted to get in on the action with its “pork roll,” egg, and American cheese sandwich on a toasted croissant several years ago, introduced only to select areas in New Jersey and throughout the New York metro. It’s also worth noting that it quickly disappeared from the menu. (Goddamn you, North Jerz. I know it was you.)
Until there’s some kind of definitive something that settles the score — a law, say, that names New Jersey’s official sandwich (yes, that’s been introduced) — (not even then, really, let’s be honest) — we’ll all just have to rest knowing that some things just don’t make sense in Jersey, especially to outsiders.
Like disco fries. And jughandles. And the fact that we don’t pump our own gas.
— By Judy Grover
Yes, it’s the same, exact sandwich. (Or, rather, inimitable culinary delight.) What the what?
Those up north who claim that “Taylor Ham” as the correct moniker really — and I mean really — don’t want to hear anyone calling it “Pork roll.” It truly is fighting words for them. Proponents of the term “Pork Roll,” for their part, generally seem to have more of a jokey laissez faire attitude about it all. (But, it seems, they all universally claim to recall the exact moment — generally in early adulthood — when they learned that others actually call it something else. “What?!” they all claim to have shouted when they first heard of this other name. “I thought Taylor Ham was, well… ham.” What classifies as ham is actually the primary reason everything got all effed 100+ years ago, but more on that in a bit.)
“Pork roll vs. Taylor ham” is a fiercely contested debate in the Jerz — an apparently nationally recognized one too, given President Obama’s shout out during his Rutgers commencement address in 2016. “I come here for a simple reason,” he said that May, “to finally settle this Pork Roll vs. Taylor Ham question.” Naturally greeted with huge laughs and cheers/jeers, he waited for the shouts to die down and continued, “I’m just kidding. There’s not much I’m afraid to take on in my final year of office, but I know better than to get in the middle of that debate.” Very wise, POTUS.
The invention of this incomparable processed product—its distinctive smoky, fatty flavor makes it a true delicacy—is officially credited to John Taylor of Trenton, who originally marketed it as “Taylor’s Prepared Ham” in 1856. (Did you know Taylor also became a politician who represented Mercer County in the New Jersey Senate in the 1880s?) Carrying on… Competitors eventually entered the market, such as Belle Mead farmer and butcher George Washington Case, who began selling his own special recipe for this very special commodity which he called “pork roll” in 1870 (then wrapped in corn husks). Fights ensued.
In 1906, the Pure Food and Drug Act determined that Taylor’s product failed to meet the legal definition of “ham,” newly defined as a cut of meat from a pig, specifically. Thus, Taylor was obliged to rename his product, which he henceforth marketed as “Taylor’s Pork Roll” (and also “Trenton Pork Roll”).
The legal battles weren't over, though. Finding himself competing with products with names like "Rolled Pork" and "Trenton-style Pork Roll,” John Taylor then attempted to trademark the term “pork roll,” and was told in 1910 that he could not. Such litigious beginnings might explain why there remain such sharp contentions. Angst like this tends to reverberate. And so here we are.
Still, though, it’s unclear why southern Jerseyans, particularly those from Trenton, are the ones insisting on the term “pork roll,” whereas North Jerseyans have emerged as the apparent ham-seekers, clinging ever-dearly to the John Taylor’s legacy. Trentonites (and, actually, anyone living in, say, Union County and below) should be the ones clinging to the original “Taylor Ham” name. Nope. It’s all “Pork Roll” all the way in Central Jersey and below. Go figure.
It’s worth noting that Dunkin Donuts attempted to get in on the action with its “pork roll,” egg, and American cheese sandwich on a toasted croissant several years ago, introduced only to select areas in New Jersey and throughout the New York metro. It’s also worth noting that it quickly disappeared from the menu. (Goddamn you, North Jerz. I know it was you.)
Until there’s some kind of definitive something that settles the score — a law, say, that names New Jersey’s official sandwich (yes, that’s been introduced) — (not even then, really, let’s be honest) — we’ll all just have to rest knowing that some things just don’t make sense in Jersey, especially to outsiders.
Like disco fries. And jughandles. And the fact that we don’t pump our own gas.
— By Judy Grover
