I’ve just got back from the most brilliant week in a cosy holiday cottage in Suffolk, and honestly, the food was the absolute star of the show. Tucked away near Woodbridge, this little gem had a proper country kitchen with a Rayburn cooker that made everything smell divine, even when I inevitably cocked it up.

First morning, I pottered down to the local farmers’ market in Snape Maltings – what a treat! Stalls groaning under piles of fresh Suffolk asparagus, plump strawberries the size of golf balls, and wheels of creamy Baron Bigod cheese that’s basically Brie’s posh cousin. I loaded up a basket with artisan bread, smoked bacon from nearby pigs, and some rhubarb so tart it made my cheeks ache just looking at it. Back at the cottage, I attempted a full English breakfast. Attempted being the key word – the bacon was perfection, crispy and smoky, but my fried eggs turned into a rubbery scramble. Still, with a mug of builder’s tea, it hit the spot. Self-reflection moment: maybe I’m better suited to eating than cooking.

Lunches were all about picnics from the cottage garden, where the previous guests had left a herb patch going wild. Snipped some mint and rosemary, chucked together a ploughman’s with that Baron Bigod, pickled onions, and chutney from the pantry. Washed it down with a crisp Adnams Ghost Ship from the fridge – Suffolk’s brewing scene is second to none. One afternoon, I even tried my hand at soda bread using market flour. It rose like a dream but ended up denser than a fruit scone. Chuckled to myself over that one; holidays are for forgiving kitchen disasters.

Evenings? Pub crawls, naturally. The first night, we ambled to The Crown in Orford, a proper freehouse with beams low enough to brain the unwary. I went for the Suffolk ham, egg, and chips – the ham hock was melt-in-the-mouth, eggs runny as they should be, and chips fat and fluffy. Pints of Adnams Broadside flowed, and the locals regaled us with tales of Aldeburgh’s fishing fleet. Next evening, The Butley Orford Oysterage for seafood straight off the boats: oysters plump and briny, dressed crab that tasted of the sea, and a whole bass grilled with samphire foraged from the marshes. I’m no gourmet, but that bass was so fresh it practically flapped on the plate. Gentle reflection here: in the rush of city life, I forget how good it feels to eat seasonally, simply, with mates around a wooden table.

One disaster worth a laugh: I fancied myself as a chef with the Rayburn and tried roasting a shoulder of local lamb from Woodbridge market, rubbed with garlic and rosemary. Set the timer wrong, and it came out tougher than old boots. Salvaged it with gravy and mash, but lesson learned – embrace the pub grub!

Suffolk’s food scene is unpretentious joy: markets bursting with produce, pubs dishing up hearty plates, and cottages begging for culinary experiments (successful or not). If you’re hankering for a holiday where every meal’s a highlight, book yourself in. I’m already plotting the next one.