The Dirty Truth
29 Main Street, Northampton
(413) 585-5999
Open weekdays 4 p.m.- 2 a.m., weekends 1 p.m.- 2 a.m.
Urbane, a bit in love with itself, and boasting a "we're-too-cool-to-put-our-name-on-the-storefront" 'tude, The Dirty Truth is about as hip as it gets in Noho. The hint of cynicism and snootiness I felt wafting from the bar made me yearn for my New York City days, but the reasonable prices reminded me that there are major perks to going out in the Valley.
Tucked among the rows of restaurants, cafes, and boutiques, you've got to know what you're looking for to get to The Dirty Truth. A coaster. Or at least a sign modeled to look like a coaster. A tiny circle bearing the pub's name hangs on silver-rimmed tinted panes, suggesting that you have to be in the know to find your way to The Dirty Truth.
Inside, dark walls run parallel to the bar. The paintings add a flash of funk to the minimalist space. High tables accompanied by bar stools provide space for larger parties to congregate. But the bar, bookended by chalkboards with the day's tap offerings and backed by dramatic mirrors, is the centerpiece of the room. After all, the extensive beer menu is the reason most people visit The Dirty Truth. But we were there to eat.
The Dirty Truth serves the best kind of pub food—enormous in portion size, familiar, and guaranteed to satisfy everyone in your posse. We devoured a mess of thick beer-battered onion rings first, slathering them in spicy mayo. The app was completely worth it, except for the fact that it ruined our appetites for the surge of food that appeared thereafter.
The fish and chips, which comes wrapped in plain white paper, is clearly enough for two. A perfectly golden beer batter encircles tender haddock. The fish is served atop a mountain of real French fries, thin and crisp and perfect for sopping up the various condiments floating around on our table. Vegetarian chili arrives in a gigantic bread bowl, topped with a blanket of white cheddar. Beneath, a hearty concoction of black beans and thick chunks of veggies make for a satisfying dinner.
The Reuben, a variation on the classic sandwich, was the most innovative of the bunch. A thick slice of dense country rye was topped with a slab of corned beef, red beets and melted gruyere. The sugar and smoothness of the beets offset the salty meat and cheese. The Reuben's sides were the only disappointment of the evening. The potato salad, chunky, full of peppers and other promising ingredients, lacked flavor and seasoning. The green salad, which could have provided a light respite between bites of the monster of a main course, was sadly wilted and unappetizing.
But then there was the Cuban, my favorite of all bar sandwiches. Slightly sweet roast pork, earthy saltiness of thinly shaved ham, gruyere, kicky mustard, and tangy pickles were all pressed in a sweet bun. There is nothing better than this sandwich done right, and The Dirty Truth could have won my favor with that entree alone. Although I was only able to make it through half (probably because I downed most of the tremendous nest of gorgeous, slender sweet potato fries), the rest survived the chill of the fridge and made for finger-licking leftovers the next day.
The Dirty Truth has got it going on. An ideal break during the dog days of summer but inviting enough to hole up from happy hour to last call in the dead of winter, The Dirty Truth is my new go-to in Northampton. The service was a bit slow, our waitress a bit moody. But with a name like Dirty Truth and an ego you can feel upon entering the door, what do you expect?
