I’ll never forget the drive down to the Cotswolds – we’d loaded up the car with enough snacks to feed a small army, but halfway there, just past Oxford, the sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us on a detour through some tiny lanes that felt more like tractor paths. The kids were moaning about hunger pangs, and I was starting to question my life choices as a holiday planner, but then we crested a hill, and there it was: the rolling hills of Little Rissington unfolding like a proper postcard. My heart lifted – this was going to be brilliant.

Pulling up to our four-bedroom lodge on the Church Farm Estate, I was buzzing with that proper arrival excitement. Perched in the Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, it looked every bit the cosy rural retreat we’d been dreaming of, with 60 acres to wander and even a children’s play area on site. Perfect for our family of eight plus the dog, who was already sniffing out adventures. Stepping inside, the open-plan living space hit us like a warm hug – that contemporary kitchen with its dishwasher screamed “no washing-up stress here!” We dumped the bags and cracked open a bottle of fizz to celebrate.

Food became the star of the show from the off. First night, I fancied playing masterchef in that gleaming kitchen. I rustled up a shepherd’s pie with mince from the local butcher in Bourton-on-the-Water – just 2.2 miles away, an easy bimble. But let’s be honest, my version was more like shepherd’s landslide; the mash slid off the plate like it had plans of its own. We laughed it off with a side of shop-bought gravy, and the kids devoured it anyway. Gentle reminder to self: stick to takeaways next time I’m feeling ambitious.

Next morning, we hit the village for a proper Cotswolds breakfast. The tearoom in Bourton did fluffy pancakes drowned in local honey – pure heaven. Then it was pub lunch at The Lamb Inn, right nearby in the heart of things. Their Sunday roast was spot on: crispy Yorkshire puds the size of hubcaps, melt-in-the-mouth beef, and veg roasted to perfection. I hoovered up seconds while the dog snoozed under the table, charming the bar staff. Evenings were for experimenting back at the lodge – one night, a mate brought over fresh trout from the river (well, the farm shop version), which I attempted to pan-fry with herbs from the estate. Turned out half decent, washed down with a cheeky bottle of Gloucestershire red.

We timed one trip with the Bourton market – stalls groaning under cheeses, pies, and artisan breads. Snagged some tangy Cotswold Brie and pork scratchings for a picnic on the 60 acres. Sat there munching, watching the kids run wild, I had a proper moment of reflection: amid the chaos of family life back home, these simple feasts in such stunning surroundings make you realise what matters. No fancy restaurants needed; just good grub, great company, and a dishwasher to save the day.

By the end of the week, we’d eaten our way through every local gem within a stone’s throw – fish and chips from the village chippy, cream teas that could induce a coma, and one last blowout ploughman’s at the pub. Rolling home fatter and happier, I’m already plotting the next food-focused getaway. If you’re after a holiday where the eating’s as good as the views, this corner of the Cotswolds delivers in spades.