Discovering the Dirty Truth

The Dirty Truth features 40 taps and a satisfying menu.

Lately, I've been disappointed in Old Man Winter's offerings to our corner of New England: rain, sleet, and temperatures in the 40's.  I've been eager to log some hours on my new snowboard, but the weather has not been favorable for that activity.  However, it turns out that conditions are just right for relaxing on a bar stool at a cozy establishment, with an entertaining companion and an intriguing beverage close at hand.

My wonderful husband being the perfect date, I looked to The Dirty Truth to supply the rest.  I had heard raves about the beer hall from friends, and finally figured out that I've unknowingly passed it a dozen times.  The storefront on Main Street in Northampton, MA, is understated; that is, it displays no sign, only a folding chalkboard on the sidewalk listing menu specials.  However, the interior is bold, with deep red walls, an oversized, metalwork clock, and a row of forty (40) taps. 

From the wall-mounted chalkboard, we chose our first beers: Maudite and Trois Pistoles, both Belgian-style brews from Unibroue in Quebec.  I love the richness and complexity of their beers, and this was the first time I'd tasted them from a keg.  You can find Unibroue bottles in four-packs at better beer retailers.

We then turned our attention to the printed menu, which included the list of bottled beer, wines by the glass, and menu items.  There was some controversy over who would order the Cuban pork sandwich; I graciously allowed Charles that privilege, reserving the right to share.  I chose the chicken pot pie, and we called out a request for onion rings at the last minute.

A small mountain of onion rings was delivered shortly: hot, crispy, sweet, fantastic!  The beer batter and sweetness of the onions were irresistible, perfectly complemented by the mellow heat of Cajun mayonnaise (I don't know what exactly was in it, I was too busy enjoying it to analyze).

The best was yet to come, in the form of a soft bun densely layered with succulent, flavorful shaved ham, moist pork roast, and melted gruyere.  My first bite of (Charles's) sandwich surprised me with a kick of horseradish and a kiss of sweet pickle.  Normally, I'm not a fan of either, but this combination was heavenly.  The thin, sweet potato frites occupying the other half of the plate provided a simple, satisfying counterpoint to the unrestrained flavors of the sandwich.

What? Oh right, the chicken pot pie.  It was satisfactory.  Nicely browned puff pastry crown, full of tender white meat, peas, and onions... and copious amounts of thyme.  It was a good dish for the season, but is not the same caliber as its menu mates.  Next visit, I'll try the Dirty Reuben or the catfish sandwich, which I hear are excellent.

We chose a liquid dessert: a Czech lager for Charles, who was itching to grip a stein, and a half-pint of Brooklyn Brewery Black Chocolate Stout.  Remember when Violet Beauregard experienced a multi-course meal by chewing Mr. Wonka's gum in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?  Well, I felt like I was eating a slice of chocolate torte and washing it down with an espresso by drinking that stout.  It was so rich, deep, and complex, I wondered who could drink a full pint!  

If you are near Northampton and like beer, scan the Main Street sidewalk for a lonely chalkboard, and stride boldly into The Dirty Truth.  The barkeep will point you toward something lovely, and you may yet find yourself feeling friendly toward Old Man Winter.

Don’t Count Your Food Miles*

Enjoying my main course and my company at Bouchon.

If you have missed me for the past few days, it’s because I was in Las Vegas with my wonderful husband, Charles.  While neither of us would think, “Vegas!” as our destination of choice, I was thrilled to join him for his business trip.

Of course, I had done some research into the restaurants we should check out there.  We took an Olympic approach to selecting our dining options, ruling out those at the very top and bottom of the spectrum.  Thus, no casino buffets, but no Guy Savoy, either.  No worries, I was perfectly content to settle for Thomas Keller.

We dined at Thomas Keller’s Bouchon on the second evening of our trip. An impromptu dinner at Wolfgang Puck’s Postrio, also in the Venetian, had disappointed us with tough ravioli and poor service the night before.  I hoped that Mr. Keller’s bistro would survive the journey from Napa Valley artisanship to Las Vegas volume. 

The meal was excellent.  Our server was efficient and knowledgeable, with the added charm of a faux French accent.  I didn’t believe Charles’s suspicion until the server  mumbled, “Sorry, I don’t speak French,” when the diners next to us requested a carafe d’eau!  It’s all part of the show, folks.

I enjoyed a small carafe of Vouvray, while my sweetheart was in the mood for beer (not a bad call when there’s Chimay on tap!).  We started with cod brandade, perfectly fried with a delicate, fluffy interior enlivened by bits of sweet-tart dried tomato and fried sage on the plate.  Our salads were fresh and flavorful, though both of us preferred the baby arugula, pear, and hazelnut brittle combination to the too-bitter mixture of watercress, endive, apple, and Roquefort.  

For his main course, Charles chose the classic trout almandine, accompanied by a generous serving of firm, sweet green beans.  I had mussels in white wine sauce-- not the best sauce I’ve ever had, but I award extra points for presentation.  The mussels bathed in an egg-shaped, cast-iron vessel, in which a small gate created a pool of broth for dipping the perfectly-crisp baguette.  There were also two shell bowls stacked together, solving the problem of a large shell bowl dominating our two-top: when the top bowl was full, it was promptly removed.  

The service details like this, the artful presentation of each dish, the graciousness of the place: these are the elements that set a great restaurant apart from the trappings of such.  I was entertained by the make-believe elements Vegas offered: window-shopping along a replica canal, strolling along lush gardens and man-made lakes in the middle of the desert.  But hospitality must be genuine, no matter how many times you have to look someone in the eye, listen, and smile in a given day.  Bravo to Thomas Keller and the staff of Bouchon for delivering a superior dining experience to their guests.

*A simple definition of food miles is the distance that food travels from its production to the consumer.  Food miles are one component that can be used in assessing the sustainability of food production and distribution.