If Munch were given the task of choosing a modifier with which to christen a new gastronomic endeavor, "Ugly" might be about 433rd on the list, just ahead of "Rancid" and somewhere behind "Ornery."

This might explain why Munch writes about restaurants and bars but doesn't open them, leaving the risk-taking to others while heavily scrutinizing new places that choose to label themselves with normally derogatory adjectives, such as "Ugly," which recently opened on the North Shore.

The tagline is simple: "Eat. Drink. Get Ugly." The concept is metaphorical: "Ugly" as a virtue. "Ugly" as avant-garde. "Ugly" as the new black. "Ugly" as the old black? Get a little Ugly after a few brews, get Ugly scarfing down a sandwich or slopping wing sauce on your mush. The premise, Munch was told by a barkeep, is that the name "Ugly" works as long as the food, service and atmosphere are anything but.

Located next to Hi-Tops, in the same building where the ill-fated Triangle 2 Bar and Grill came and went, Ugly has changed almost nothing about the interior from the old place, and that's not a bad thing. An attractive stainless-steel bar is framed between exposed brick walls and cool, clean, mirrored glass racks for the hard stuff. Patrons can choose to watch cooks scurry about the open kitchen in the back or a ballgame on a pair of plasma TVs behind the bar.

The menu is basically bar food but with a few creative and novel additions and a guarantee that all the ingredients are fresh and food is prepared from scratch, nothing frozen or microwaved.

Ugly employs the same vaunted wings recipes once used at the bygone Dragon Ice Co. on the South Side. At $7 per pound, flavors range from Mild Buffalo to Hot BBQ. That is, except for one called "Chasin' the Devil," made with imported Red Savina Habanero peppers, which are certified by the Guinness Book of World Records as the hottest peppers known to man; according to Wikipedia they check in just below -- get this -- pepper spray on the Scoville rating scale of hotness. In other words, you could throw one at a mugger or a rioting crowd and effectively neutralize them. Provided that he/she signs a waiver, a patron can attempt to eat up to 10, appropriately priced at $6.66. Munch isn't sure if the intent here is to maim or to nourish, and having nothing to prove, prudently opted instead for a bowl of the Ugly Ultimate Tailgate Chili ($4).

Served with fresh tortilla chips the chili was a decent blend of veggies and meat, and made Munch sweat just enough to savor a pint of the seasonal Penn Pilsner St. Nikolaus Bock ($5) -- which, in the opinion of this hops geek, may be the greatest beer ever crafted. Ugly had a nice mix of more than two dozen domestics, micros and imports, including the Flying Dog Old Scratch amber lager and Stone Arrogant Bastard Ale, and the staff claimed that if a regular wants a beer they don't have, they'll make sure to get it.

Of course, catering to one's beer needs could just be an elaborate ruse to get patrons to return the next day to pound down the Hangover Over, a grilled hamburger with two fried eggs, American cheese and hot pepper relish ($7), maybe with a side order of Aunt B's Deviled Eggs ($4).

Munch thought about the Grilled Bratwurst sandwich ($6) or the Big Ugly Wet Burrito ($8) before settling on the Giant Pulled Pork "Sammitch," a heaping helping of meat with a barbecue chipotle sauce and a side of fresh-made potato chips ($6). The meat was juicy, the chips a nice complement, though the sauce could have used a little extra bite with the seasonings.

The guiding principle of Ugly puts customer service at a premium, something that is severely lacking from other establishments in the immediate vicinity, namely an Irish pub with a literary name, and from the haughty hotties next door.

Service on Saturday night was prompt and overwhelmingly friendly by the able-bodied staff. A chef came out from the kitchen to deliver a meal and stopped to ask some customers how everything tasted. A nice touch. Bartenders easily alternated between serving drinks and striking up conversation with the patrons, most of whom applauded with schadenfreude in seeing the bumbling end of the Belichick-Brady reign of terror. Munch can only imagine the bedlam that ensued on Sunday.

By definition, it had to be Ugly. Vanderjagt Ugly, perhaps. And that sounds awful pretty to Munch.

Ugly is at 208 Federal St., North Shore; 412-323-8459.