I finally made it to Saffron Lodge after a bit of a faff on the drive down from Exeter. The satnav decided to play silly buggers just outside Okehampton, sending me down a narrow lane that was more mud track than road—classic Devon, innit? I ended up with a splatter of cow muck on the tyres and a sheep giving me the evil eye from a hedge, but hey, it was only a ten-minute detour, and by the time I pulled up to Roadford Lake, I was buzzing with that proper holiday anticipation.

Saffron Lodge is one of those cracking little lakeside spots—cosy wooden lodge with a veranda overlooking the water, tucked away in the Torridge bit of Devon. First impressions? Pure bliss. I arrived mid-afternoon, bags in hand, and the owner popped out with a cheery wave and a basket of local eggs and herbs from her garden. "Help yourself to the welcome pack," she said, and blimey, it was a corker: fresh bread from the village bakery, a slab of Devon clotted cream, and a jar of strawberry jam that screamed homemade. I dumped my stuff inside, cracked open a tin of cider from the fridge (they'd stocked a few local ones—cheers to that), and got stuck into a cream tea right there on the deck. Scones weren't mine, mind, but I slathered them thick with cream and jam while watching a heron fish in the lake. Proper indulgent start.

That first evening, I fancied something simple but couldn't be arsed to drive far—everything I needed was right on the doorstep. The lodge kitchen is kitted out nicely, with all the pots and pans you'd want for a dabble. I nipped to the nearby farm shop at Roadford Lake Holidays—literally a five-minute wander—and grabbed some fresh mackerel from the day’s catch, plus new potatoes and a bunch of watercress from the riverbanks. Back at the lodge, I tried my hand at pan-frying the fish with a bit of garlic and lemon. Now, I'm no Gordon Ramsay, but it came out alright—crisp skin, flaky inside—though I did set off the smoke alarm for a laugh when I got distracted by the sunset. Paired it with a salad and a bottle of white from the local offy, eaten al fresco as the lake went all pink and gold. Sat there reflecting on how daft it is that I never do this at home—cooking proper food without the rush. Makes you realise life's too short for ready meals, doesn't it?

Next morning, breakfast was a highlight. Those eggs from the welcome basket fried up with local bacon from the farm shop—thick rashers, none of your flimsy supermarket stuff—and toast from yesterday's bread, revived in the toaster. Brewed a pot of tea strong enough to stand the spoon in, and scoffed it on the veranda while mist lifted off the water. Felt like a king. Mid-morning, I wandered over to the little market stall they have by the lake—seasonal veg, cheeses from Torridge Creamery, and pasties that were still warm. Snagged a couple of those for lunch later, plus some fudge that was dangerously moreish.

Lunch turned into a comedy of errors. I thought I'd impress myself with a ploughman's: cheddar from the market, pickle, apple from a tree by the lodge, and one of those pasties. But try as I might, I couldn't resist turning it into a messy sandwich—fudge crumbs everywhere. Laughed my head off at the state of the kitchen counter. Afternoon was pub o'clock, so I ambled to the Fox and Hounds in nearby Lifton—just a couple of miles up the road, proper traditional Devon boozer. Pulled up a stool for a pint of Otter Ale, golden and bitter just right, and their steak and ale pie with chips. Flaky pastry, tender beef stewed in local brew—washed it down with another pint while chatting to a couple of locals about the fishing. "Best pie this side of the Tamar," one said, and he wasn't wrong.

Evening back at the lodge, I went full rustic: roasted the new potatoes with rosemary from the garden, seared some lamb chops from the farm shop, and whipped up a gravy that actually thickened for once. Glass of red, feet up by the wood burner (it gets a chill off the lake at night), and that gentle glow of a belly full of good Devon grub. First impressions of Saffron Lodge? It's not just a place to crash—it's a foodie's dream bolthole, where every meal feels like a mini adventure. Can't wait to see what the next days bring, but this start's set the bar sky-high.