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| - **** 4.5 stars ****
It's always nice to start out in Vegas with a bang. And while that statement has so many salacious and insidious connotations here, for our group it meant hitting up one of the places I was most looking forward to for this trip to Sin City. I actually first heard of Public House when I was trying to find anywhere in Vegas that served a good variety of craft/specialty beers, and then subsequently read heavily lauded reviews from Ashley H and Venu N, which only cemented the fact that it would be a must upon arrival.
It's tucked way back in the recesses of The Venetian, and may take a bit of exploring to find, especially since it's one of the more "normal" looking restaurants you'll spot in a Vegas casino, from the outside. Inside though, the place definitely has a unique charm. As mentioned by Venu, the bathroom humor here is some of the best I've ever seen. Unfortunately for me my digital camera memory card died about a week after my Vegas trip ended, completely wiping all the photos I had taken (and idiotically not yet transferred to my laptop), so you'll only be privy (no pun intended) to the one gem I recall reading, just above the men's urinal: "Stand a little closer, it's smaller than you think."
Vidal, Julie, Zack, and I all set down and started drinking as soon as we had gone through the 100 or so beers on the very nifty iPad like tablet they use here, while we waited on Brian to arrive and join us. Unfortunately I had lured everyone here with the promise of beautiful women, and while there were a few cute hostesses, our waiter turned out to more closely resemble Humpty Dumpty (which, ironically, was a fascination of former restaurateur David Burke, who used to occupy this space), and their cicerone (akin to a sommelier, for beer) someone who had retired from his former life as a circus ring master. Both were quite nice, indeed, but my mates hopes were far from fulfilled. Perhaps the most embarrassing moment of the night came when, on multiple occasions, their cicerone poured our beers much like someone on their first shift at an average sports bar would, causing head to flow over all down the glass and on the table. This is something I expect from Uncle Buck, not someone with a professional certification in beer service. As for the list itself, it's pretty good, with about 100 bottles to choose from, all pretty fairly priced (I went with the Trappistes "Rochefort 10" at $16 and the Firestone Walker "Wookey Jack" Black Rye IPA at $25 for a 22oz) and nicely arranged by style. I was hoping to see a few more really rare finds, similar to the elite class of beer bars, but that was mostly missing here. There is high quality stuff to be sure, but most of it can be found at any of the mid-tier beer bars around the country. Compared to the virtual (and literal) desert that is the Vegas beer bar scene though, this is at the mountain top by a mile.
The food turned out to be quite good as well, although I think we would have been wiser to follow some of the previous diners' examples and stick with multiple shared medium plates rather than the entrée dishes. My beer braised short rib and IPA battered onion rings were great, and the sweet pea puree was certainly novel, if not distracting, but I don't think the pork loin, pub burger, or pappardelle quite pleased my friends as much, and after a few bites of each I concurred that while they were solid, they weren't up to the same level. The Welsh rarebit was a massive disappointment that I do not recommend, and the poutine was great (to me), although my friends found it extremely salty, and technically I think it's more like disco fries with duck confit on top, rather than actual poutine. Either way I agree with all the other recommendations to absolutely order this dish (just know it's an ass kicker).
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