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The sun's reflection still screams with its blazing yellows and glaring whites over the haze-tinted shoreline – even on this fall day. The white-capped surf still erupts on the undulating bluish Atlantic Ocean, and the Boardwalk's familiar old sea wood smell still mingles with the ocean's brackish odor that occasionally wafts my way.

It's great to be back in Atlantic City – I've been away more than 25 years. Oh, the memories of my youth here – summers with my family, morning bike-riding on the Boardwalk, whisking off sand trapped between my toes. The ocean and the beach haven't changed much since then. But it seems everything else here has.

The casinos are enormous. The skyline shouts "glitzy" with its straight-up hotel towers adorned with the glowing neon sings of Taj Mahal, Showboat, Bally's and Tropicana to name a few – quite different from the nostalgic view of the 1920's- or 40's-era hotels I remember. I now find a modern city of pulsating lights along the Boardwalk. Parking garages tower over where more quaint structures once stood – the ones that gave Atlantic City that old charm.

Changes or not, my first instinct is to find what to me was as synonymous with Atlantic City as the jitney and the surf. "Let's get a Taylor Ham Pork Roll

dogs, hamburgers, pizza, souvlaki and gyros, but I can't find the delicious greasy little sandwich. I remember the slices broiling over an open flame and the long tube-like pork rolls wrapped in fabric hanging on the restaurant walls.

Where is the sandwich? "Do you know?" I ask one Atlantic City old timer. "I haven't seen one in 15 years," he says. What? No Taylor Ham Pork Roll? How can that be? Well, I guess this truly isn't the same Atlantic City I knew.

The Princeton Antiques store houses some of the true treasures in Atlantic City. It looks like a Victorian-style library – books line the narrow rows of shelves along with maybe a few dozen photo albums filled with original old photographs of "America's Favorite Playground."

That's where I find Robert Ruffolo, the store's owner and the chairman of the Atlantic City Historical Museum. If anyone knows where to find a Taylor Ham Pork Roll sandwich, he will. But Ruffolo admits to me he hasn't seen one in 18 years – indeed disappointed how the pork roll's tangy flair apparently faded away with the specialty stores. "I miss that whole type of atmosphere," he concedes. "Those changing times are what eliminated a place like the Taylor Ham Pork Roll (restaurants). They specialized in one thing – the Taylor Ham Pork Roll sandwiches." "You kind of miss

those things - the Belgian Waffles, the pork roll," he adds. "We used to have Planters Peanuts there. That was the character that made up the Boardwalk and that's what the

people remember." From his seemingly endless collection of memorabilia, however, Ruffolo uncovers an old postcard with the facade of the famous John Taylor Colonial Inn Restaurant at 1607 Boardwalk. Scribbled on the back is this: "A swell place to eat, the sandwich is only 10 cents and sure is good."

Now it's no secret that you can still buy the famous Taylor Ham Pork Roll in the grocery store. And after Mr. Ruffolo kindly took the time to make a couple phone calls, we learn finding the spicy sandwich is also no secret to the locals. Bill and Denise Stamat have served pork roll for three generations at their family-owned Gilchrist Restaurant. "I looked forward to it, such a great taste. Especially with a good mustard," Bill Stamat recalls of his growing up years. He says he now sells maybe 25 to 50 a day on a toasted Kaiser roll at $2 a pop. But Gilchrist Restaurant is not on the Boardwalk – in fact it's maybe a mile away. And it's only open for breakfast and lunch.

So there is only one solution. I will walk the Boardwalk myself and look for a pork roll sandwich. My trek begins at the Garden Pier and I hike what seems like several miles – all the way to the Atlantic City Hilton Casino Resort and back.

"Do you have Taylor Ham Pork Roll?" I ask vendors along the way."No, ham or hamburgers," they reply. Some places have roast pork sandwiches on the menu, but no pork roll.

"Do you know where I can find a pork roll sandwich," I ask a forty-something passerby? "There is something about the Taylor Pork Roll that hits the spot," he responds, while trying to remember whether he recently bought one in Atlantic City.

My search leads me to where the famous John Taylor Colonial Inn Restaurant once stood – 1607 Boardwalk. It's now a gyro and souvlaki restaurant, where the cook tells me he heard the pork roll business was sold in the 1980s. Again no pork roll sandwich, but I enjoy a tasty gyro there and some good conversation with another fellow, also chomping on a gyro. "I grew up with pork roll – Taylor Ham we used to call it when we were kids and we still do," he says. "That's the best. We'd always have it for breakfast. It's like a staple in my house."

I keep searching and stumble upon the Atlantic City Historical Museum, where surprisingly, there's not even a hint of any pork roll memorabilia. But peanut lovers won't be disappointed. A life-size "Mr. Peanut" costume practically greets you at the door.

I finally have some success. In the food court of the Ocean One Mall (it's on a pier that resembles a mighty ocean liner), I find a pork roll sandwich plate with French fries at a hot dog stand. The sandwich, displayed with cheese steaks and other deli plates, features two thinly sliced pork roll patties on an oversized hot dog roll.

But is this success? I'm not sure. This sandwich seems to have lost its old-fashion appeal on such a big bun in a modern-day food court.

"This used to be the Steel Pier," I overhear one woman say – apparently playing guide-for-the-day while showing around her friends or family.

It still is the Steel Pier because that's what the sign says. This is a clear indication to me that I'm not the only one who now perceives the "old" Atlantic City charm as merely a fond memory. Yet as the seagulls frolicked above, I overhear an elderly man exuberantly beckon his woman companion. "I want you to sit down and breathe some of this air," he commands as a couple dozen other people – clustered on Boardwalk benches – enjoy the fall sunshine and ocean breezes.