I’ll never forget the drive down to Devon – we’d packed the car with enough cheese and crackers to fend off a siege, but halfway through Somerset, the sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us looping round some tiny lanes that felt more like goat tracks. Still, by late afternoon, we rolled into Broadhempston, hearts racing a bit with that proper holiday buzz, wondering if this barn conversion we’d booked would live up to the snaps.

Pulling up, it was love at first sight. Tucked into a quiet complex of four cottages, it’s got this cosy, characterful vibe with generous luxuries like a sunken hot tub and a cracking wood burner – perfect for gazing out at the sweeping countryside that rolls right up to your door. Or, as it turned out, for plotting your next pub crawl. First impressions? Spot on. We dumped the bags and cracked open a bottle of local cider from the offie in Totnes, just 10 minutes up the road, to celebrate.

Food was the star of the show from the off. That first evening, we pottered into the local pub in Broadhempston – a proper Devon gem called the Broadhempston Inn, all low beams and chatty locals. I went for the Devonshire cream tea platter (okay, it was more like a light dinner), with sconces so fluffy they practically dissolved, proper clotted cream thicker than my accent, and strawberry jam that tasted like it was picked that morning. My other half demolished a pint of Otter Ale and some fish pie that had us both eyeing seconds. We staggered back, bellies full, and fired up the wood burner for a lazy hot tub dip under the stars. Bliss.

Next day, we hit the markets in Totnes – what a find! Totnes Pannier Market on a Tuesday morning is a feast for the senses: stalls groaning under fresh Devon pasties (I snaffled a cheese and onion one that was still warm, flaky perfection), artisan breads, and cheeses from the likes of Ticklemore – their goat’s cheese with herbs had me plotting a cheeseboard empire back home. We loaded up on local veg, plump tomatoes and spuds that smelled like actual earth, and headed back to cook. My attempt at a Devon casserole? Let’s just say the wood burner saved it from total disaster – too much garlic, not enough patience. Laughing over our slightly charred efforts with a glass of Sharpham sparkling wine (picked up nearby, naturally), I had one of those moments: holidays like this remind you life’s too short for rubbish takeaways. Slow down, savour the lot.

Torquay was our big outing, just 10.5 miles away – harbour and marina views calling us for seafood. We parked up and beelined for the harbourside spots, landing at a cracking little place with moules marinières in a creamy cider sauce and the freshest Dartmouth crab salad. Watching the boats bob while tucking in? Pure romance. Back at the cottage, evenings blurred into more pub hops – the Church House in nearby Ipplepen does a mean Sunday roast with all the trimmings, Yorkshire puds like golden pillows.

By the end of the week, we’d grazed our way through Devon’s best: pasties for brekkie, pub grub for lunch, and home-cooked feasts with market hauls at night. That barn was our perfect base – countryside views as the backdrop to it all. If you’re after a holiday where the eating’s as good as the exploring, this is it. We’re already plotting a return.