Because you'd need a hefty supply of beer before setting foot in a public library (especially if you want to dull the terror of Mrs. Schneiderman's telling of Baba Yaga!), 8000sqft newcomer Public House has lined their lounge with tons of hardbacks, which, along with photos of monkeys, vintage bobbleheads, and dark brown leather couches, make the place feel like the study of an eccentric, wealthy man-child.
Home to Nevada's only certified beer cicerone, the 200+ brews're spread out over 24 taps (Big Sky Moose Drool, Joseph James Craft Lager...), a trio of casks that rotate daily, and -- with dozen-style-strong categories ranging from "Fruit" to "Barrel Aged" -- a preposterously long list of cans, because "a can is a better storage vessel", which is what you always tell your girlfriend. Anyone with a real set of highballs, though, can go the cocktail route, from an IPA/celery bitters/Sriracha bloody called the "Bitter Hottie", to the Leblon/ St. Germain/ Laphroaig "23rd & Valencia", to the mint-sportin', lemon-juice-havin' Van Winkle "Rip Smash", exactly the phrase Rip Torn kept shouting on the set of The Incredible Hulk until they gave up and hired that dude from My Favorite Martian.
And in case you don't like monkeys watching you eat, there's an intricately tiled dining room stuffed with mahogany leather, restored wood art, and a climate-controlled wine cube, setting the stage for lardo-heaped toasts, poutine laced with duck confit, roasted marrow w/ bacon marmalade, and short ribs braised in porter, making them, much like you at the library, publicly housed.