Just got back from the most brilliant week in a cosy holiday cottage in the Peak District, and honestly, the food was the absolute star of the show. Perched on the edge of a little village near Bakewell, our stone-built bolthole had this cracking kitchen with a Rayburn that I was dead set on mastering – though that plan went a bit pear-shaped, as you'll see.

First morning, we piled into Bakewell for the Tuesday market, a proper treasure trove of local grub. I loaded up on Derbyshire oatcakes, crumbly cheeses, and the freshest pork pies you've ever tasted. Those oatcakes? Slathered with butter and a dollop of pickle, they were breakfast heaven, eaten on the cottage terrace with views of the misty dales. We even nabbed some handmade fudge that stuck to my teeth for days – worth every sticky moment.

Cooking kicked off ambitiously that night. I'd spotted a recipe for a proper Derbyshire pasty using local beef from the farm shop in Youlgrave. Chopping veg, rolling pastry, the lot – felt like a telly chef until the oven timer buzzed and out came something resembling a deflated football. Laughable, really, but my mate Dave wolfed it down anyway, declaring it "rustic." Gentle self-reflection there: maybe I'm better at eating than baking. We salvaged the evening with a quick dash to the local pub, The Bulls Head in Monyash. Pint of Peak Ales' brilliant IPA, followed by their melt-in-the-mouth lamb shank with mash that could hug you. Pub grub doesn't get better – all sticky tables, crackling fire, and locals swapping tall tales.

Midweek, we hit the farmers' market in Matlock, where I went proper overboard on foraged wild garlic pesto and venison sausages. Back at the cottage, success at last: grilled those bangers with a side of bubble and squeak from yesterday's spuds. Paired with a bottle of red from the offy, it was pure bliss, rain pattering on the windows while we tucked in.

No Peak District trip skips a pub crawl, though. The Pack Horse in Hayfield served up the best fish and chips – batter crisp as a autumn leaf, mushy peas spot on. And don't get me started on the sticky toffee pudding at The George in Hathersage; it was a warm, gooey hug after a damp hike. We tried our hand at a cottage cheeseboard too, with Stilton from Hartington and chutneys from the market – turned out I could slice without incident, phew.

Last night, a cheeky takeaway curry from the Buxton spot delivered to the cottage, eaten cross-legged on the rug. Reflecting on it all, amid the feasts and minor kitchen disasters, I realised it's these simple, hearty eats that make the Peaks unforgettable. No fancy restaurants needed – just good local nosh, a full belly, and mates to share the laughs. Can't wait to go back and redeem that pasty.