I’ll never forget the drive down to the Gower Peninsula – we’d packed the car to bursting with cool bags of fresh veg from the market back home, dreaming of seaside feasts, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a proper queue just past Swansea. Some roadworks had us crawling along, and I was already eyeing up the pasties at a roadside van, but we powered through with crisps and a cheeky podcast about Welsh rarebits gone wrong.

Finally rolling into Mumbles, hearts lifting at the first glimpse of that glittering bay, we pulled up to this cracking first-floor flat right in the thick of it. Luxurious without being fussy, it’s got this stylish vibe for four to six of us, with wraparound sea views that make you want to crack open a bottle before you’ve even unpacked. The anticipation built as we lugged bags up the stairs – would the kitchen live up to our gourmet holiday dreams? Spoiler: it did, and then some.

First night, we hit Joe’s Ice Cream down the road – not just any ice cream, mind, but the creamiest, dreamiest cones you’ll find this side of heaven. I went for honeycomb, which melted faster than my diet plans. Back at the flat, we rustled up a simple supper: local mackerel we’d snaffled from Mumbles Pier earlier, grilled with lemon from a quick pop to the farm shop. The sea view from the open-plan kitchen made it feel like we were dining on a yacht, even if my filleting skills were more enthusiastic than expert.

Next morning, breakfast was a highlight – proper Welsh laverbread and cockles from the fishmonger on Mumbles Road, fried up with bacon from the butchers next door. I had a go at making soda bread to go with it, using a recipe scribbled on the back of a napkin from the market. It came out a bit lopsided, more rugby ball than round loaf, which had us in stitches. “That’s character,” I declared, buttering it thickly. Self-reflection moment: holidays like this remind me I’m no MasterChef, but faffing about in a sunny kitchen beats my usual microwave mug of tea any day.

Lunches were pub-centric – The Mermaid down by the seafront for fresh crab salads and a pint of Brains, overlooking Bracelet Bay. Evenings, we’d wander to The King’s Head for their legendary fish and chips, golden and crispy, wrapped in paper for that authentic touch. One night, I attempted a full-on Welsh cawl in the flat’s sleek cooker – lamb from the local butcher, leeks from the weekend market at Oystermouth Square. It simmered away while we watched the sun dip over the bay, and honestly, it tasted like I’d channelled my nan. Okay, slight exaggeration, but the mates wolfed it down.

We hit the Mumbles Farmers’ Market midweek too, loading up on artisan cheeses, homemade chutneys, and those fat, juicy strawberries that scream summer. Picnics on the promenade became our thing – hunks of cheese, crusty bread, and a flask of tea, with seals barking in the distance. Cooking in that flat felt effortless, with all the gadgets and those views keeping us inspired. Sure, there was the odd burnt toast mishap (me again), but it just added to the laughs.

By the end of the week, stuffed to the gills and a stone heavier, we were plotting our return. Gower’s food scene, from pier-fresh seafood to cosy pub grub, paired with a spot like this flat, makes for the ultimate feed-fest. If you’re after a holiday where every meal’s a memory, this is your spot.