I finally made it to 64Fw after a bit of a faff on the drive down from Manchester – nothing major, just a rogue sheep blocking the A494 near Dolgellau, turning what should’ve been a straightforward two hours into a bleating standoff. I was starving by the time I pulled up to this cosy little stone cottage tucked away in Llwyngwril, right on the edge of Snowdonia. The sea views from the garden were a proper tonic, but let’s be honest, my mind was on grub. After dumping my bags, I cracked open the well-stocked kitchen – it’s one of those places that feels like a mate’s holiday home, with everything you need to rustle up a feast without faffing about.

First impressions? Blissfully quiet, with the Irish Sea lapping just down the hill and the mountains looming like old friends in the distance. But I wasn’t here for hiking (yet); I was all about settling in with food. The cottage had a cracking welcome pack – fresh bread, local butter, and a bottle of Welsh cider that I cracked open straight away. I nipped to the village shop, just a five-minute wander, for eggs, bacon, and some proper mature cheddar from a nearby farm. Breakfast was my first proper experiment: frying up a full Welsh fry-up with laverbread I’d grabbed on the way. It was a bit of a mess – the laverbread stuck to the pan like glue – but slathered on thick toast with black pudding? Heaven. Sat by the window with my mug of builder’s tea, watching gulls wheel over the bay, I thought, blimey, this is the life.

Lunch was pub-focused, naturally. Llwyngwril’s got the Sun Inn, a proper no-nonsense local just a stone’s throw from 64Fw. I ambled in around midday, still buzzing from that sheep encounter, and ordered the fish and chips – fresh from Cardigan Bay, they said, and it tasted it. Crispy batter, chunky chips, and mushy peas that hit the spot. The barman recommended a pint of Conwy Welsh lager, light and crisp, perfect for easing into holiday mode. Chatted with a couple of locals about the best spots for crab fishing nearby (turns out the beach is crawling with them at low tide). Light-hearted stuff, with a cheeky joke about my driving woes: “Sheep always win round here, mate.” Left stuffed and smiling, with a doggy bag for later.

Afternoon was all about the kitchen again. The cottage’s Aga-style cooker is a dream for pottering – I fancied a stab at cawl, that hearty Welsh lamb stew. Picked up lamb shoulder and leeks from the village market stall (they pop up most days with fresh veg from Gwynedd farms). Chopping away, listening to the radio, I had one of those gentle moments of reflection: back home, I’m always rushing meals in front of the telly, but here, with the smell of slow-simmering stock filling the air, it felt like proper self-care. Added carrots, potatoes, and a splash of that cider for depth. Burnt the first batch of dumplings (too eager on the heat), but the second lot were fluffy pillows. Served it up in the garden as the sun dipped, with crusty bread and a cheeky Welsh rarebit on the side – melted cheese, mustard, all grilled to bubbly perfection. Laughed at myself for the dumpling disaster; who needs Michelin stars when you’ve got sea air and second chances?

Evening called for another pub crawl – well, more of a waddle to the Sun Inn again, since it’s the heart of the village. Opted for the roast chicken dinner special, sides of dauphinoise potatoes and seasonal veg that tasted like they’d been picked that morning. Paired it with a Brains SA, and the landlady shared tales of local seafood hauls. Back at 64Fw by nine, I heated up that doggy bag fish for a midnight snack, feet up by the fire. First day in, and it’s clear: this spot’s a foodie’s dream. No grand adventures needed – just good nosh, cracking views, and the promise of more belly-filling days ahead. Can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.