Peppermill's Fireside Lounge

Our city is full of places promising "classic" Las Vegas. How -- even more bewilderingly, why -- everyone insists upon this, despite the near-daily tearing down or tossing out of another "classic" casino, bar or restaurant, remains unclear. We promote the heyday of Siegel and Sinatra, yet virtually all that remains of their original stomping grounds is the odd brass plaque by the slot machines or the newsstand indicating the spot where Bugsy and Virginia Hill fought 'n' fondled or the Rat Pack swung 'n' sang. But the actual places themselves, whose glamour and mystery illuminated our idea of Las Vegas as much as any 20 miles of neon ... well, they're gone.

So let us give thanks and praise for the Peppermill Inn, which has remained essentially the same and quintessentially Vegas for more than 30 years. The Peppermill is actually two places in one, both bedecked with pink and blue neon and a forest of polyester cherry blossoms. In the front, the restaurant serves massive portions of delicious diner food; the Fireside Lounge in back is a dim bar with rows of plum velour booths around the legendary fire pit, a bubbling pool of turquoise water with orange flames flickering in its center.

As you might imagine, the Peppermill Fireside Lounge isn't quite the place to kick back with a Bud -- well, you could, but why would you when there are so many more appropriate and alluring options? Peruse the extensive drink menu for classics like champagne cocktails and mai tais, house specialties such as the oatmeal cookie and chocolate monkey, or the built-for-two 64-ounce scorpion. All will be served by one of the charming cocktail waitresses, elegantly clad in slinky, backless, black evening gowns -- no thongs or sequins for these ladies.

The Fireside Lounge is world-renowned for being sexier than any $35 bra, no matter who's wearing it. It was dubbed one of America's 10 Best Makeout Bars by Nerve.com. But the hideaway nature of the Peppermill is also conducive to less-amorous getaways. On the first anniversary of 9/11, several friends and I took advantage of ludicrously cheap airfares to escape from New York City, and we designated the Fireside Lounge as the place where we would be least likely to be reminded what day it was. And we weren't: Aside from the E! True Hollywood Story of Loni Anderson babbling mutely on the flat-screen behind the bar, there was nothing to disturb us from the fire pit and our bloody Marys.

Unfortunately, the Fireside Lounge is no longer quite the perfect hideout. In a changing world, and a city that changes even faster, not even the Peppermill could remain utterly untouched. While recent renovations added a bit of polish, one alteration has brought universal complaint: the video screens. While they have not totally ruined the serene, romantic ambience of the lounge, every spare inch of space is now jammed with monitors broadcasting an endless stream of adult contemporary/easy listening clips from the likes of James Taylor, Celine Dion and Sting. Now the hypnotic flicker of the fire, the soothing burble of the water and the warmth of our companion (or companions) must compete for our attention with Phil Collins. But all is not entirely lost: Every once in a while, they'll throw on a few minutes of Frank and Dino. After all, this is classic Las Vegas ....

-- Review by Lissa Townsend Rodgers