I finally made it to The Lodge near Amlwch after a bit of a faff on the drive over from the mainland. The Britannia Bridge was chocka with traffic – some numpty in a caravan had decided to parallel park on the hard shoulder, turning a straightforward hop across the Menai Strait into a two-hour crawl. By the time I pulled up to this cosy stone cottage tucked into the hillside, I was starving and dreaming of a proper Welsh fry-up.

The Lodge is one of those proper gems – a snug two-bedroom place with a wood-burning stove and a kitchen that's kitted out like your nan's dream setup, all within spitting distance of Amlwch's high street. First impressions? Absolute bliss. I dumped my bags, cracked open a window to let in that briny sea air from nearby Llaneilian Bay, and raided the welcome pack for a cuppa. But let's be honest, the real star here is the food scene, or at least my bumbling attempts to make the most of it over those three days.

Day one kicked off with a stumble to the local Spar just down the lane – five minutes' walk, if that. Grabbed bacon, eggs, cockles from the chilled section (because when in Anglesey, right?), and some bara brith slices that were still warm from the bakery. Back at the cottage, I fired up the Aga-style cooker for what I grandly called my "gourmet breakfast." Spoiler: the bacon curled up like a question mark, and the cockles ended up tasting more like seaside regret than delicacy. Laughing at my own cock-up, I salvaged it with a dollop of Branston pickle and a mug of builder's tea. Sat at the window table overlooking the rolling fields, munching away, I thought, blimey, this is the life – even if my cooking skills need a serious upgrade.

Lunch was a revelation at the nearest pub, The Queen's Head in Amlwch Port, a proper old boozer with beams low enough to concuss the unwary. I went for the crab sandwich – fresh from the boats that bob in the harbour just outside, slathered in mayo on thick-cut white bread. Paired it with a pint of local Brimstone ale, crisp and bitter enough to cut through the salt. Chatting with the barman about the day's catch, I felt like a local already. No fancy gastro nonsense, just honest grub that hits the spot after a morning's fresh air.

Evening rolled around, and I fancied playing masterchef again. Nipped to the weekly market in Amlwch town square – a stone's throw from The Lodge – where stalls were heaving with Welsh cheeses, smoked mackerel from the bay, and trays of faggots that smelled like heaven. Bargained for a chunk of caerphilly and some leeks the size of my forearm. Back home, I attempted cawl, that hearty lamb stew that's Anglesey's soul food. Chopped veg flying everywhere, I followed a scribbled recipe from the cottage's info folder. It bubbled away nicely, but I overseasoned it with too much thyme – tasted like I'd been wrestling a herb garden. Still, with a doorstep of granary bread from the market bakery, it went down a treat by the fire. Washing it up, I had a quiet moment of reflection: holidays like this remind you that it's not about perfection; it's the messing about in the kitchen, the simple joy of feeding yourself with local bits, that sticks with you.

Day two's breakfast was takeaway pasties from the harbour chippy – sausage and onion, flaky and steaming. Pub lunch at The Marquis in Amlwch was mussels in garlic cream, plump as you like, followed by a sticky toffee pud that required a lie-down. Dinner? More market spoils: fresh crab claws cracked open with a mallet on the patio, dipped in aioli I whipped up (miraculously, it worked). Pub crawl highlight was The Liverpool Arms, where the landlady dished out gossip with her homemade lasagne specials – cheesy, meaty perfection.

By day three, I'd nailed a full Welsh breakfast in the cottage kitchen: laverbread, black pudding from the butcher's stall, all fried to crispy-edged glory. Brunch at a seaside café near the lodge yielded bara heath scones with clotted cream, and we wrapped with fish and chips from the port, eaten on the harbour wall watching the waves.

The Lodge isn't just a stay; it's a launchpad for feasting on Anglesey's best. My belly's full, my heart's content – can't wait to return for more culinary chaos.