I’ll never forget the drive down to Carbis Bay – that classic Cornish holiday kick-off with a proper gremlin in the works. We’d piled into the car in Bristol, me shotgun with a thermos of tea, hubby at the wheel, and the kids in the back already squabbling over crisps. About two hours in, just past Exeter, the sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us on a wild goose chase down some narrow lane that felt more like a goat track. Hearts racing, we finally popped out onto the A30, laughing it off as the rugged coastline started teasing us with glimpses of the sea. By the time we crested the hill towards St Ives, my stomach was rumbling like a Cornish pasty fresh from the oven – anticipation bubbling for what lay ahead.

Pulling up to this immaculate penthouse apartment, perched high overlooking the sparkling sweep of Carbis Bay, we were gobsmacked. The elevated spot promised unbeatable sea views, and from the off, it delivered – that contemporary vibe inside with its fresh white walls framing the endless blue. A welcoming hallway swept us into the open-plan living space, perfect for us lot: two couples kicking back after a day out. The oversized sofa was calling my name already, but first impressions? Spot on – it felt like instant holiday magic.

Food, though – that’s where this trip truly shone. We hit the ground running with a wander to St Ives’ foodie heart. First stop: Porthminster Beach Café for lunch, those platters of fresh local seafood – plump prawns, glistening mackerel straight from the day boats – washed down with a crisp Cornish cider. Blimey, it was heaven. Evenings became a ritual of cooking in the penthouse kitchen, with its sea-view backdrop making even my dodgy efforts feel gourmet. I had a right go at a seafood linguine one night, flinging in mussels from the market and handfuls of herbs, only to overseason it with chilli. The others took the mick gently – “Mum’s turned it into a fire-breathing dragon!” – but we scoffed it anyway, collapsing onto that vast sofa with full bellies and rosy cheeks from the wine.

Markets were our daily pilgrimage. The St Ives farmers’ market on a Sunday was a riot of colour – stalls groaning under clotted cream fudge, artisan cheeses from nearby mousetrap makers, and piles of just-picked strawberries that tasted like summer itself. We stocked up on pasties from Philps, the proper ones with chunky beef and swede, perfect for beach picnics down at Carbis Bay. Pub grub stole the show too – a cheeky pint and fish supper at The Hub in Carbis Bay, where the chips were fat and golden, and the batter so crisp it crackled. One night, we ambled to The Carbis Bay Hotel’s beach bar for sunset moules frites, dipping bread into garlicky sauce while the tide whispered below.

Reflecting on it now, sat here back home with a cuppa, I realise how those simple meals stitched the holiday together. No fancy restaurants needed; it was the shared faff of chopping veg with the waves crashing in the distance, the laughter over my culinary cock-ups, that made it unforgettable. If you’re after a spot to eat, drink, and be merry with a view that feeds the soul, this Cornish gem’s got it in spades. Can’t wait to go back.