I’ll never forget the drive up to Pitlochry – that winding A9 from Perth had me white-knuckling the wheel in the drizzle, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a dead-end farm track just as the sun peeked out. A classic daft moment from yours truly, who clearly can’t read a map to save her life. But oh, what a payoff when we finally rolled up. This cosy two-storey cottage, smack in the heart of Pitlochry, hit us with those great first impressions right away – welcoming lights glowing, a proper home-from-home vibe that had us grinning like kids at Christmas. I’d been buzzing with anticipation all morning, dreaming of kicking back after the road hassle.

We dumped the bags and headed straight for the kitchen, stomachs rumbling. It’s one of those well-appointed spots perfect for a family or mates, with everything you need to rustle up a feast. First night, I fancied playing chef – grabbed some fresh tatties, venison sausages from the local butcher on Atholl Road, and a bundle of neeps from the Pitlochry Friday market we’d scoped out earlier. Markets here are a gem; stalls heaving with Highland cheeses, plump berries, and those crusty artisan loaves that make you forget supermarket sludge. My attempt at a tattie and neep mash? Let’s just say it was more lumpy landslide than smooth supper, but slathered in local butter, it went down a treat with a cheeky bottle of Cairngorm Brewery ale we’d nipped to stock up on.

Next morning, we wandered to the Fishers Hotel bistro for brunch – their smoked salmon and scrambled eggs on thick-cut toast is the stuff of legends, all sourced from Loch Tay fisheries. Fuelled up, it was pub-hopping time. The Atholl Arms nearby does a cracking ploughman’s with mature cheddar that could stand a spoon in, paired with their house ale. We laughed over pints, me admitting I’m a rubbish cook but a champion eater. Afternoon tea at Fonab Castle Hotel’s Fernette was pure indulgence – scones still warm from the oven, clotted cream thicker than my accent, and strawberry jam from Perthshire growers. Back at the cottage, I tried redeemed myself with a simple pasta primavera using rocket and tomatoes from the market – success! (ish).

Evenings blurred into cosy bliss: fish and chips from the Pitlochry chippie, wrapped in paper and scoffed on the sofa with views of the bustling square. One night, we hit McKay’s Hotel for haggis bonbons and sticky toffee pud – comfort food heaven after a gentle stroll. Reflecting on it now, sat here with a cuppa, I realise it’s these simple meals that made the holiday. No fancy faff, just good grub, cracking pubs, and that satisfying ache from overdoing the portions. Pitlochry’s food scene suits a cottage stay down to the ground – fresh, hearty, and unpretentious. If you’re after a base for scoffing your way through Perthshire, this is it. We’re already plotting a return for the black bun at New Year.