I’ll never forget the drive down to Penderyn – we’d loaded up the car with enough snacks to feed a small army, but halfway through the A470, the satnav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us on a scenic detour through some narrow lanes that had me gripping the wheel like it was a lifeline. A sheep decided to photobomb our progress by strolling right in front, forcing a full stop, and there we were, laughing hysterically as it eyed us up like we were the intruders. Still, by the time we rolled into the village, nestled in the Bannau Brycheiniog National Park, the anticipation was buzzing – visions of cosy evenings and hearty Welsh suppers dancing in our heads.

Pulling up to the spacious detached house, my first impressions were spot on: it looked every bit the perfect family bolthole, with its welcoming vibe and that delightful garden begging for a barbecue. Inside, the open-plan living area was a dream – the excellent kitchen gleaming and ready for action, while the sitting area and massive table promised lazy chats over meals. There was even a second sitting room for anyone needing a quiet nook with a book and a brew. Five bedrooms and two cracking bathrooms meant no queuing dramas, which for a group of us was pure bliss.

Food became the heartbeat of our stay, naturally. First night, we raided the local Penderyn stores for essentials – fresh bread, local cheeses, and a slab of bara brith that was still warm from some nearby baker. I fancied myself as the chef, attempting a proper Welsh cawl in that superb kitchen. It started promisingly with lamb from the village butcher, leeks as big as my forearm, and potatoes that mashed like a dream. But I overseasoned it something rotten – too much thyme, not enough subtlety – and we ended up chuckling over bowls of what tasted like a herby soup gone rogue. Lesson learned: stick to the basics next time, eh? Gentle nudge to my inner Gordon Ramsay.

The real stars were the pubs within easy strolling distance. The Angel in nearby Hirwaun was our go-to – we piled in for Sunday roast, the beef carved tableside and Yorkshire puds puffed up like clouds, all washed down with a pint of Brains. Proper comfort food that had us moaning in delight. Another evening, we hit the Red Lion in Penderyn itself, where the fish and chips were legendary: batter crisp as a biscuit, mushy peas vibrant green, and chips thick enough to sop up the gravy. They do a cracking local ale too, brewed just down the road, which went down a treat after a gentle wander through the village.

We even timed a trip to the Hirwaun market on a Saturday morning – stalls groaning under Caerphilly cheese wheels, homemade jams, and plump sausages from hill farmers. Loaded up with treats, back at the house we grilled in the garden: bangers sizzling, fresh salads, and that cheese melted over everything. One night, I tried my hand at Welsh rarebit again – success this time, gooey and golden on doorstep toast, shared around the table with stories flying.

Reflecting on it now, amid all the eating and pub crawls, I realised how these simple food-centred days grounded us. No fancy restaurants, just real, hearty Mid Wales grub in a house that felt like home. We left fuller in every sense, already plotting the next feast. Can’t wait to go back.