I’ll never forget the drive up to Rhos-On-Sea – we’d packed the car with enough snacks to feed a small army, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a massive traffic jam just past Colwyn Bay. Turned out some cheeky sheep had decided the A55 was their personal spa day. We sat there giggling, munching crisps, and building up this massive anticipation for our little holiday flat. By the time we rolled into that quiet cul-de-sac, we were starving and buzzing.

First impressions? Blimey, what a gem. It’s a cosy first-floor apartment in a historic building with this fascinating backstory – once a hotel, owned by some aviation pioneer way ahead of his time. Stepping inside felt like instant holiday mode: open-plan living with the kitchen, dining bit, and lounge all blending together seamlessly. Sea views out the front had the waves sparkling like they were winking at us, and round the back, it’s all lush nature reserve greenery. Perfect for a couple like us, proper home-from-home vibes.

Right, food – that’s where this trip properly shone. First evening, we didn’t fancy cooking after the drive, so we wandered down to the Promenade, just a short stroll away. Ended up at The Bistro at Bryn-y-Mor, this cracking little spot with outdoor tables right by the sea. I went for the local mussels in garlic cream – plump, fresh from Conway Bay, I reckon – and my other half demolished a massive fish pie. Washed down with a crisp Welsh cider. We sat there as the sun dipped, feeling like we’d cracked the code to seaside bliss.

Next morning, I fancied playing chef in that well-kitted kitchen. Nipped to the weekly market in Rhos-On-Sea – proper local affair, stalls groaning under fresh crab, smoked mackerel, and artisan cheeses from nearby farms. Bargained for some bara brith (couldn’t resist that fruit loaf) and a punnet of strawberries that tasted like summer. Back at the flat, my attempt at a full Welsh breakfast was... enthusiastic. Bacon sizzling, cockles from the fishmonger (they’re a Colwyn Bay staple), laverbread that I probably overcooked a tad. Laugh-out-loud moment when I flipped a lopsided pancake onto the floor – classic me, all heart, no finesse. Still, we scoffed it with mugs of builder’s tea, views of the bay keeping us grinning.

Evenings were pub central. The Pen-y-Bryn up the road does the best homemade pies – I’m still dreaming of that steak and ale number, flaky pastry giving way to tender meat. Proper chatty locals in there, sharing tales of Rhos life over pints of Brains. One night, we tried The Stables next to the Coliseum Centre in Llandudno (mere minutes away), where the Sunday roast was a beast: roast beef carved tableside, Yorkshire puds like fluffy clouds, and gravy that could make you weep. I overdid it, naturally, waddling back to the flat stuffed.

Cooking experiments ramped up mid-week. Markets yielded leeks the size of my arm, so I had a bash at cawl – that hearty lamb stew. Turned out alright, actually, simmered slow while we lounged with the sea breeze wafting in. Self-reflection hit me then, sat at the dining table: I’m always rushing life at home, but here, faffing over a pot of stew with no agenda felt like proper luxury. No distractions, just us, good grub, and that calming view.

We capped it with fish and chips from Oliver’s in Llandudno – batter crisp as anything, wrapped in paper for beach munching. Rhos Retreat was spot-on for foodie indulgence without the faff. If you’re after a base for pub-hopping, market raids, and half-decent home cooking with epic views, this is your spot. Can’t wait to go back.