Guess where I'm drinking?

I made a mad dash for the hills this past weekend, partially to decompress and partly to do what I do best: Eat and drink. And while I did both equally well, I spent the majority of my time imbibing in the sitting area of a magnificent dining room rusticated with leather sofas, hardwoods, Wild West photos and a towering, three-story fireplace made entirely of stones gathered from a nearby rockslide. I could have drunk craft beer or blown through a bottle of red zin, but instead I crossed over to the wild side and sipped an incredibly rich chocolate and vanilla martini that I enjoyed far more than I thought I would.

Can you guess where I'm drinking?

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