I’ll never forget the drive down to Saundersfoot – sat nav had us twisting through those narrow Pembrokeshire lanes, and just as we neared the village, we had a right old comedy moment when the car decided to throw a hissy fit over a flat tyre. There we were, me and the other half, faffing about with the spare wheel while a couple of locals strolled by with their dogs, offering cups of tea and a chuckle. Twenty minutes later, we rolled up to this cracking ground-floor apartment, hearts racing a bit from the anticipation of finally arriving. First impressions? Spot on. It’s right by the beach in this proper charming seaside spot, with a lovely patio view over the communal garden – felt like we’d stumbled into our own little slice of coastal heaven.

We dumped the bags and cracked open a bottle of local cider we’d nabbed from a farm shop en route, proper buzzing about what grub adventures lay ahead. Saundersfoot’s a foodie gem if you know where to look, and staying so close to the pubs and shops made it dead easy to potter about. First night, we ambled down to The Glen pub, just a hop away – grabbed fish and chips that were so fresh you could almost taste the sea. Crispy batter, chunky chips, mushy peas on the side; it hit the spot after our tyre trauma. Sat outside with a pint of Brains, watching the world go by, and I thought, yeah, this is what holidays are for.

Next morning, I fancied playing chef in the apartment’s neat little kitchen – stocked with all the basics, which was a godsend. Nipped to the local market on the high street, where they’ve got stalls groaning under Pembrokeshire cheeses, fresh crab from the harbour, and veg that’s still got the dirt on it. Picked up some smoked mackerel, new potatoes, and a loaf of that dense Welsh bara brith for pudding. My attempt at a seaside fry-up turned into a slightly charred masterpiece – the other half took the mick, calling it “gourmet campfire,” but we scoffed it on the patio anyway, with gulls squawking overhead. Honestly, there’s something satisfying about messing up a meal on holiday; makes you appreciate the pros even more.

Evenings became a pub crawl ritual. The Galleon was next – proper hearty portions of lamb shank and dauphinoise, washed down with a cheeky local ale. One night we tried the chippy again but poshed it up with artisan sauces from the deli. And don’t get me started on the seafood platters at The Captain’s Table nearby; prawns, scallops, the lot, all sourced bang on from Tenby’s waters just up the coast. We even had a laugh attempting a crab salad back at the apartment, using market pickings – mine ended up more like crab mash, but it tasted of summer.

Reflecting on it now, lounging with a coffee overlooking that garden, I reckon the real magic was how the food wove into everything. No fancy restaurants needed; just simple, brilliant local eats, a bit of home cooking faff, and those welcoming pubs. Left us stuffed, happy, and already plotting a return. If you’re after a base for munching your way through Pembrokeshire’s best, this spot’s unbeatable.