I’ll never forget the drive to our holiday spot near Pontypridd – we’d loaded up the car with enough snacks to feed a rugby team, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a cheeky traffic jam just past the M4 services. Half an hour of inching along, bickering over whose playlist was worse, and I was proper starving. But as we finally crested the hill above the valleys, hearts lifted – there it was, this gorgeous 16th-century farmhouse turned luxe holiday home, all welcoming lights glowing against the twilight. First impressions? Spot on. The views over the South Wales valleys had us grinning like kids, and stepping inside felt like the ultimate Welsh croeso.

We were a big group – ten of us, mates and family – and this place was made for it. That kitchen/diner? Absolute dream. Massive handmade timber table right in the centre, wood-burning stove crackling away, and a walk-in cold room that doubled as our booze fridge. We cracked open bottles of Brains lager straight away, toasting the mishap-free arrival (well, almost). Downstairs, the two sitting rooms were perfect for sprawling out – one cosy with its inglenook fireplace, the other sleek and modern, both stocked with games and telly for lazy evenings.

Food drove the whole trip, mind. First morning, I fancied playing masterchef in that brilliant kitchen, stocked for a party of 12. Whipped up a full Welsh breakfast – cockles from the local market in Pontypridd (grabbed some on the way in), laverbread, bacon rashers sizzling, and eggs from a nearby farm shop. It was a right laugh, though my attempt at perfect fried bread ended up a tad cremated. Laughs all round, especially when we paired it with strong tea and views that made you forget the world.

We didn’t stay in much. A quick drive down to Cardiff Bay – 20 minutes, easy peasy – and we hit the food markets there. Balmy evenings munching street food: bara brith from a stall, fresh oysters, and cheesy rarebits that melted in your mouth. Back at the farmhouse, we’d host massive dinners. One night, I tried cawl in the slow cooker – lamb, leeks, spuds – using veg from Pontypridd Market. Turned out lush, served family-style around that table with crusty bread and a cheeky bottle of Welsh red. The kids loved the bunk room, us lot the master with its en-suite views – pure bliss after a bellyful.

Pub crawls were highlights too. The chain pubs in Pontypridd like the Bunch of Grapes did cracking pies and real ales – I had the steak and ale, washed down with a pint of SA. Closer by, we found a cosy local with live music and homemade faggots that had us moaning in delight. One rainy afternoon, we hunkered in the inglenook room with board games, nibbling Welsh cakes baked that morning (my second attempt was less hockey puck-like).

Reflecting on it now, sat here back home, I realise it wasn’t just the grub – though that was epic – but how the place brought us together. No fancy holidays abroad needed; this farmhouse, with its mix of old charm and mod cons, had us cooking, chatting, and laughing till late. Proper reset. If you’re after a foodie escape in South Wales, hunt one like this down – you won’t regret it.