I’ll never forget the drive down to Looe – that classic Cornish road trip where you think you’ve got it all planned, only for the sat-nav to chuck a wobbly and send us down a single-track lane narrower than my waistline after Christmas. We were bumper-to-bumper with a tractor for what felt like miles, me gripping the wheel and my other half yelling “reverse!” like it was a game show. But honestly, it just ramped up the anticipation – by the time we crested that hill and spotted the sea glinting below, I was proper buzzing.

Pulling up to the cottage, it was love at first sight: a cosy little terraced number, all quaint and tucked away in Queen’s Park, with that perfect holiday vibe – nothing flash, just welcoming and spot-on for a foodie getaway. We dumped the bags and straight away cracked open a pasty from the local bakery down the road, still warm and flaky, the kind that makes you forgive any traffic nightmare.

First morning, we wandered into Looe proper, just a gentle stroll away, and hit the fish market on the quay. Blimey, the sights and smells – fresh mackerel, plump prawns, and crab straight off the boats. I haggled a bit (badly) for a couple of whole plaice and some samphire, feeling like a proper local. Back at the cottage, I fancied myself as Jamie Oliver, firing up the kitchen for a seaside fry-up. Disaster struck when I overdid the butter and ended up with a pan of sizzling sludge, but we laughed it off with a bottle of Cornish cider and salvaged it with lemon and herbs. Tasted alright in the end, if a tad charred – note to self: less enthusiasm, more patience.

Evenings were pub heaven. The Ship down by the harbour became our local – we propped up the bar twice, devouring platters of battered cod and chips so crispy they crackled, washed down with a pint of Rattler. One night, we tried the seafood linguine at The Courtyard, just up the hill; mussels in a creamy garlic sauce that had me scraping the bowl. Proper indulgent, and the portions were massive – I waddled home vowing to hit the beach path for a walk the next day (spoiler: we did, but only after elevenses at the beach café’s cream tea. Scones with clotted cream and jam? Non-negotiable.)

Midweek, we nipped to the weekly market in town – stalls groaning under pasties, fudge, and veggie stalls with wonky carrots that screamed farm-fresh. Loaded up on local cheeses and a loaf of proper Cornish splits, then back for a DIY picnic in the cottage garden, watching the world go by. My cooking highlight was a crab salad I bodged together from market picks – messy, but miles better than shop-bought.

Looking back, it was those simple, belly-filling moments that made it special. I’m the first to admit I’m no chef, and there were a few kitchen cock-ups that had us ordering takeaways, but that’s holidays for you – all about the joy of trying, the shared plates, and not caring if the apron’s floury. Looe’s food scene is pure magic; if you love your grub like I do, it’s the spot to stuff your face and your soul. Can’t wait to go back.