With slim and highly commercial options for craft brewing in Las Vegas, I ventured off the Strip for a beer bar experience like few others. Online I found the Freakin’ Frog near UNLV campus, across the street from an In N Out Burger.
Its spot in a small shopping plaza next to a head shop did not reveal the beer wonders that lied within. As for the Frog, its interior only hints at its mighty beer collection and the 500-bottle whiskey collection stored upstairs.
For a visit, I suggest renting a car, if only to avoid the chance of walking back to the Strip (a solid 2.5 miles). We only made it back from a Friday record store trip because a cabbie happened to stop for an album. Otherwise, walking is the only option
I perused their giant beer guide, which boasted hundreds of brews, including a handful of rarities not available. When my choices kept coming up empty, I urged the bartender to give me a view of the cooler. The happy hour crowd prevented that from happening, at least not immediately.
Thankfully, the Frog's taps include two delights not available due east. I started with the mighty Rogue Charlie, a strong American ale in their words (an American barleywine in mine). The name is in honor of American homebrewing pioneer Charlie Papazian, president of the Association of Brewers and founder of the American Homebrewers Association. With lots of hop leaf on the nose, its florid complexion covers a wide spectrum. Plenty of alcoholic pepper and creaminess mingle on the finish. This was a dangerous beer, with an alcohol content estimated in the 14 percent range. Still, served in a Chimay chalice and at $10 a pour, it did not wipe me out.
The second brew equaled it in rarity. The Frog had acquired a keg of Rogue Smoked Porter brewed with vanilla beans. The deviation from the standard smoked porter had not been bottled and otherwise available only at Stone’s brewery in Escondido.
The vanilla beans add a starkly different direction to the standard smoked porter. The porter finishes with a dry blast of vanilla – it isn’t extract or artificial, but raw pure vanilla. More importantly, it preserves the light, drinkable quality porter should emanate. This beauty vanished before I realized it. Obviously, the porter is too expensive to widely brew with the vanilla beans. If the chance arrives, grab one, or as many pints as possible. It was the best domestic porter I tasted in ages.
Then it was time for a splurge from the Frog’s catalog of brews. I had been turned down on Westvleteren 12 and the fake label on the bottle. As much as I want to abide the monks, I would have splurged for that rarity made rarer Several saisons were also out of stock. I heard whispers of the cooler containing bottles not on the list, and inquired about a quick view.
The bartender acquiesced and let me wander it for a few minutes. Their estimate of 1,000 beers felt light. I could have wasted an hour picking one out, and passed a dozen ales which could have finished me off. As I wandered, the reveler's silhouette on the bottle of of a Cantillon Gueuze stuck with me. I almost balked at the $22 price, then realized I would not find one back in Nashville.
As for the gueuze, it possesses a fantastic complexity. Cantillon combines lambics aged one, two and three years. Without the fruit most people associate with lambic, it takes a jagged turn. It was sour and puckered the lips, then finished by leaving me salivating. The initial flavors were Granny Smith apple, pineapple, apricot, sour orange and a layer of brilliant tart peach. That’s just in the nose. All flavors reappear in the body, along with a cidery texture and a mustiness often reserved for French red wine. This was real deal, intricate ale worth every penny.
With Cantillon delicately coating my palate, I didn’t touch another beer for hours.
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