I’ll never forget the drive up to St Andrews – or rather, the bit just outside Leven where the satnav decided to have a midlife crisis and sent us down a narrow farm track. We were bouncing along like we were in a rally car, me gripping the wheel and my mate Dave yelling “reverse, reverse!” from the passenger seat. A quick U-turn later, and we were back on track, hearts racing but laughing about it. As we crested the hill, the Fife countryside unfolded before us – those rolling green fields stretching out to the sea, and there it was, our holiday retreat nestled right in the middle of it all. Set within the rolling countryside of Fife, it offered a carefully considered escape designed for slowing down and switching off. Framed by open views across the surrounding landscape and out towards the sea, the space felt connected to nature while keeping things cosy no matter the weather. First impressions? Spot on. We arrived buzzing with anticipation, bags barely unpacked before we cracked open a bottle of fizz on the terrace, toasting the promise of proper downtime.

From the off, it was all about the food – or rather, our grand plans to make the most of it. The place had this cracking kitchen, all sleek and inviting, so we fancied ourselves as amateur chefs. First night, I attempted a seafood linguine with prawns from the local fishmonger in Leven – picked up that morning on the way in. Smelled divine bubbling away, but I overseasoned it something rotten. Dave took one bite and pulled a face like he’d sucked a lemon. “Mate, it’s like eating the North Sea!” We howled with laughter and salvaged it with heaps of cream and a side of crusty bread from the St Andrews bakery we’d scoped out earlier. Proper redemption.

Next day, we hit the farmers’ market in St Andrews – what a gem. Stalls groaning under fresh scones, artisan cheeses, and the most incredible smoked salmon you’ve ever seen. I loaded up on venison sausages, local tatties, and a wedge of crowdie cheese that was pure heaven spread on oatcakes. Back at the property, we fired up the hob for a full-on Scottish fry-up breakfast that spilled into brunch. Crispy bacon from the market, eggs poached just right (miracle!), and those sausages grilled to perfection. Sat out on the deck with sea views, it felt like we’d cracked the code to holiday bliss. No rush, just lingering over second helpings and strong coffee.

Evenings were pub time, naturally. The Craw’s Inn down in Leven was our go-to – a proper cosy local with real ales on tap and the best fish and chips I’ve had in ages. Battered haddock the size of a flip-flop, mushy peas on the side, and a pint of something hoppy to wash it down. One night, we tried our hand at a roast back home: leg of lamb from the butcher’s in St Andrews, rubbed with rosemary from the garden plot nearby. Came out pink and juicy, thank goodness – no disasters this time. We paired it with market veg roasted till caramelised, and a cheeky bottle of red. Sat there as the sun dipped over the fields, I had one of those moments, you know? Staring out at the landscape, fork halfway to my mouth, thinking how daft it is that we pack so much into normal life. Here, with good mates, great grub, and zero agenda, it was like hitting reset.

We wrapped up with a final pub crawl to the Golf Hotel Inn – their steak pie was legendary, flaky pastry and tender beef that melted in your mouth. Loaded with leftovers from our cooking experiments, we hated leaving. If you’re after a spot to eat well, laugh loads, and properly unwind amid Fife’s best views, this is it. Can’t wait to go back.