Highland Hills Ranch is a sensuous indulgence for upland hunters.
The contours of Oregon’s high-desert rolling hills summon womanly curves shamelessly gorgeous beneath sun-infused blue. After a day of stalking valley quail, chukars, pheasants and huns over dogs, Chef Keith Potter seduces you with a perfume of homemade bakery and dinners fragrant of Western, Latin and Pacific Rim influences as the provincial pinot noirs comfort body and soul. Come dessert, you’re spent and benevolent. The vaulted log great room is aglow with amber lamplight. You plop into a supple leather couch for single malts, bourbon and camaraderie, savoring the warmth of a stone hearth blaze.