With lumber and gristmills dotting the landscape, these industries were at one time the lifeblood of New Hampshire's northern regions. Like arteries, these rivers transported goods and provided the power necessary for operation. The Ammonoosuc river passes through the small north country town of Littleton, NH. Littleton is situated far enough away to feel vaguely like a frontier outpost. I haven’t ventured this far north for many years, not since those early chapters in my life, the ones filled with a myriad of hiking and backpacking adventures into the White Mountains. Littleton, like most New England small towns has an early industrial history, as evident by the multitude of brick mill buildings and it’s location along the Ammonoosuc river. These old buildings are a relic from a time vastly different from what supports the area now. The mills were once a part of a thriving logging industry that has long since left, leaving a town and population to chart its own course without the support of an industry that was at this towns core.
This is where I meet Emshika, a Thai born, vivacious, outgoing personality that I can already tell is a force to recon with. Undecided on what jacket she’s going to wear, I’m candidly informed that clothing decisions can be problematic at times. She talks out the pro’s and con’s of each and makes a quick-ish decision based on the temperature and wind.
Emshika is owner and head chef at Chang Thai Cafe. Chang Thai is situated on Main Street amongst an eclectic group of other small town local businesses. This is the type of Main Street that feels like a time-warp. A time before America got consumed by big stores, before corporate interests made their presence by cannibalizing the businesses that couldn’t compete with the discounted prices and economies of scale. There are small boutique clothing stores, coffee shops and bakeries, pet supplies, a candy store boasting the longest continuous candy counter in the world, a local brewery, and a market that has locally sourced artisanal offerings. Products like syrups, canned produce, infused olive oils, ice-cream, honey, etc. can all be found here. While the community does have an economy and life, it is still subject to common economic hardships and struggles. As we’re walking along, she quickly points out what was once the local, independent, movie theater. During the pandemic, like all theaters, the doors were shut on account of distancing requirements and secession of indoor gatherings. Unfortunately the doors never re-opened on this one. Rather than chain establishments that feed a corporate behemoth while offering menial pay, Main Street here feeds the local community and economy, it feeds families, both literally and figuratively, and in essence feeds the soul of what community truly means.
Walking through many of these stores, it’s obvious that Emshika loves what’s here. She loves the stores, the people, and the community. It’s a reminder of how vital our connections are and can be. That community isn’t just about where you call home but is based on the closeness of the connections within those locales. Those connections are a genuine regard for each other, that’s where community is. The door greeter at a large box store doesn’t know my name and could probably care less. They are just as unaware of my battles as the thousands of other folks that stream through those doors on a daily basis.
Chang Thai is a labor of love, it was conceived and born out of Emshika's sisters late passing, an exit from the corporate world, with doors opening in 2005. Upon first walking in, I’m already loving the atmosphere, it’s not dark but then again it’s not hospital white and bright. There’s a subdued, intimate atmosphere. The tables aren’t packed in like sardines, there’s breathing room. It’s the type of place where having a conversation in peace while enjoying a meal is possible. Not being a fan of excessive noise, bright lights, or other overly stimulating environments, this is welcomed and amazing situation.
Emshika sits me down and orders everything. I’m fairly compliant when it comes to folks giving me suggestion and thoughts on what to eat. If it’s on a menu somewhere, I’m generally open to trying it.
Crab Rangoon, those little pockets of crispy, golden, wonton shells deep fried until their cream cheese innards become cauldrons of hot magma. If you're a fan of crab rangoon, you know exactly what I'm talking about! You try to be as patient as possible, and maybe this time you are, but at some point in your life you got a little cocky, overzealous, and thought to yourself, "they're cool enough, I can handle it." Then after a bite you quickly discover the the serious miscalculation that just occurred! The creamy white lava gushes all over, you quickly begin desperately maneuvering it around your mouth with your tongue, coating your entire mouth with this scorching substance. While performing these antics, you make an assortment of strange sucking noises, an attempt to avoid singeing every square inch of your mouth. My good fortune was that I was also taking pictures, talking and thus avoided this all to familiar scenario.
Something I have never really paid attention to while eating crab rangoon, or maybe I did and I was just annoyed and had no other reference point to justify my complaint, was the actual thickness of the wrap. I assumed they were always overly crunchy, not ever contemplating the 'why' behind it, and this was one of life's great mysteries and injustices that I was completely ignorant to. This though, wonton is super thin, so much so that these were double wrapped and still maintained a delicate lightness. After a quick dunk in a light sauce, I recklessly bit down (no magma) and those lighter wonton wrappers were perfect. The cream cheese didn't cause me any heat related emergencies and the green onion that was a part of the medley in the middle gave just enough flavor to be there and then, just as quickly as I noticed, it faded out, leaving the crab meat and cream cheese.
Those shells that you get elsewhere, the ones that you risk inadvertently driving an extra thick piece of over-fried wonton spear into you gums. Not here. Of all the minor details I've never appreciated, the wraps were phenomenal and let me focus on other aspects. More please!
The Rock & Roll signature roll. A gargantuan roll of fresh tuna and avocado, a seaweed tempura wrap, and topped with a spicy mayo. I love mayo, seriously...you may find it revolting, and feel free to judge here, but I could eat it by the spoonful! What's more satisfying than mayo though? Spicy mayo.
Maybe it was my sub-par chopstick skills this afternoon, but the size of this roll made it a little much to handle in a single bite and as a result I resorted to biting it in half...at this point the roll dissembled and I eat it piecemeal. Some tuna that fell here, rice there...oh well.
What I loved and found interesting about this roll was the light tempora coating on the outside. It gave the roll an ever so slight crunch to contrast the softer tuna and avocado within. It also resulted in a seaweed wrap that I didn't have to vigorously chew. If there's something that drives me a little nuts about some sushi rolls is what feels like a feat of endurance necessary to bite through, and chew, the seaweed wrap. The seaweed wrap was thin, satisfyingly crunchy, and did not result in a battle to chew it, or overpowering the rest of the soft textures within the roll. The crunchiness of the tempura balanced out the softer textures of the rice, tuna, and avocado within of the roll. The drizzle of spicy mayo gave the whole roll a little pop while also not taking away from anything else.
Choo Chee Steak, a dish I've never had! This flank steak was perfect! It had a slight char on the exterior that added a sharp flavor that was strangely well placed along with the creamy coconut milk, red curry, that it was served in. It could be that I simply wasn't in the mood for vegetables, after all, they do take up precious real-estate in my stomach. I had some, but after conversation with Emshika, she mentioned baby bok choy as a substitute, I felt as though this would have been the better option, halved and grilled baby bok choy. Regardless of the vegetables, the steak was delicious and after having exposed myself to a more “Americanized” option when it comes to beef, BBQ, this was a flavorful excursion for me. The marbled meat results in the fat being rendered into a succulent smorgasbord of sweet, spicy and flavorful mouthful of goodness...so much so that over the weekend I made a feeble attempt at cooking something similar. It wasn't remotely close, but then again, it gives me a good reason for a weekend excursion sometime.
With an almost insatiable sweet-tooth, dessert is certainly my Achilles heal. Regardless of how much I've eaten, I have a secret compartment just in case. There's the traditional Thai offering of mango & sticky rice with a sweet coconut cream, but Emshika has other ideas. Thai Tea Panna Cotta. Yes, this is is something you'd more typically find on an Italian menu. A sweetened cream with added gelatin to create a dense and thickened custard. The difference here is in the flavoring, it's not an amaretto or vanilla flavoring, instead, Thai tea. Emshika insisted that I try this, and I willfully obliged and was delighted by what came out. I’m admittedly not entirely familiar with panna cotta, but do have a love affair with Thai sweet tea that stretches back to my early twenties.. It had all the flavoring and sweetness of Thai tea, with the added density and mouthfeel of dessert. I could eat this all day.
Paired along with this came a martini using a gin that was the collaboration between Emshika and Tamworth distillery. It’s a Thai chili infused gin. The martini was a tad sweet, but the gin shined through and had the hallmark flavor of chili’s, adding an interesting flavor to the cocktail. This was a perfect dessert for me.
The food here has been great, the kindness, hospitality and atmosphere has everything. I take myself out on occassion, but not nearly enough and this is what I miss about dining out. The food contained surprises that I didn’t know I needed. I feel that as a culture we’ve been conditioned with consistency and come to expect our food just as we've always had it, in a certain way. As a result we subconsciously identify uniqueness as something wrong when it's not familiar. These subtle changes and differences can amount to new, unique, and positive experiences if we keep our hearts open to them. Yes, I have some minor criticisms here and there, but those may simply be personal preferences, or subconscious biases that I may be unaware, or blissfully ignorant, of. The fact of the matter though, is that when we sit down and focus on what we’re doing, when we’re present for whatever it is we’re doing and fully paying attention, we open ourselves to finding those small details that we may otherwise not identify. I’m not a food critic, heck, I don’t even consider myself to be a writer. Photography on the other hand, maybe, but that’s the incredibly interesting thing about life, we get to choose our path, where we go, what we do, what we say yes to, and how much love we put into it.
