I finally made it to The Hazel Pod in Mid Wales after a bit of a faff on the journey down. I'd set off from the Midlands early, buzzing about this quirky little hobbit-style hideaway near Cowbridge, but wouldn't you know it, I took a wrong turn somewhere around the A470 and ended up in a muddy layby arguing with my sat-nav. "Recalculating," it kept bleating, while I sat there with a lukewarm Greggs pasty, wondering if I'd ever find the place. Twenty minutes and a sheep-induced U-turn later, I was trundling down those narrow lanes towards Llanblethian, the Vale of Glamorgan's rolling hills unfolding like a proper Welsh postcard.

Pulling up to The Hazel Pod just before teatime on day one, I was gobsmacked. Tucked into a peaceful spot with views over farmland, this wee round pod looked like something Bilbo Baggins might've knocked up after one too many pints. Cosy as owt, with a wood-burner already set and a compact kitchen that screamed "self-catering heaven." My first thought? Food. I'd stocked up en route from a Tesco in Merthyr, grabbing local-ish bits: Welsh cheddar, bara brith, and some lamb chops that promised a proper feed. But honestly, the pod's vibe had me itching to explore the eats straight away.

That first evening, I couldn't resist a wander to Cowbridge's high street, just a short hop away. It's one of those cracking little market towns where everything's on your doorstep. Popped into the Cowbridge Farmers' Market – well, it was market day vibes even if not the full Saturday shebang – and nabbed fresh veg from a stallholder who swore his leeks were the best in the Vale. "Grown in proper Welsh rain, see?" he winked. Back at the pod, I fired up the hob for my inaugural cooking attempt: a slapdash lamb stew with those leeks, spuds, and a splash of Brains beer I'd smuggled in. It wasn't MasterChef, mind – the carrots went a bit mushy because I got distracted faffing with the pod's smart speaker – but slathered on thick bread, it hit the spot. Sat outside as the sun dipped, tucking in with a cheeky cider, I felt that holiday glow. Proper nourishing, that.

Day two kicked off with brekkie dreams. The pod's kitchen is tiny but brilliant – compact oven, proper kettle for a builder's brew. I attempted pancakes with local honey from a jar nabbed at the market, but let's just say my flipping skills need work; one ended up a sad pancake pancake on the hob. Chuckled to myself, scraped it off, and made do with toast slathered in that cheddar. Fuelled up, I headed to The Bear Hotel in Cowbridge for elevenses. It's the sort of proper pub with beams and history, serving a cracking ploughman's with local ham and pickles. Chatted with the barman about the best spots nearby – he recommended the chippy on the high street for later. I did, too: battered cod and chips from Village Fish and Chips, eaten back at the pod with the wood-burner crackling. Bliss. Attempted a pud that night – crumble with market apples – but overdid the oats, turning it into gritty rubble. Still, dolloped with custard, it was comedy gold and oddly satisfying.

By day three's lunch, I'd hit my stride. Nipped to The White Hart in Llanblethian, a gem of a village pub not five minutes away, for a roast beef sarnie with proper gravy on the side. The landlady reckoned their suppliers were all local farms, and you could taste it – juicy, no nonsense. Back for my final pod supper: a heroic go at cawl, that Welsh broth with lamb neck from the butchers in Cowbridge. Simmered it low and slow, chucking in market carrots and herbs. Turned out bang on, if I do say so – no disasters this time. As I scoffed it by the window, watching the Welsh twilight, I had a quiet moment of reflection. Life back home's a rush of takeaways and rushed suppers, innit? Here, faffing about with markets and pub grub had me slowing down, savouring every bite. The Hazel Pod didn't just feed my belly; it reminded me food's best when it's simple, local, and shared with nowt but good company – even if that's just me and my dodgy cooking. What a cracking first impression.