I didn’t expect Cornwall to linger in my memory the way it has. I’d been to Somerset before—those winding lanes, the soft rolling fields, the kind of countryside that feels like a watercolor painting brought to life. But Cornwall? Cornwall surprised me. It wasn’t just the coastal views or the salty breeze off the English Channel. It was the way the food, the art, and the quiet corners all wove together into something that felt like a personal discovery.
Settling in at Middle Colenso Farm
We stayed at Middle Colenso Farm, tucked away in a subtropical pocket near the coast. The stone cottages felt both rustic and refined, with just the right balance between woodburning coziness and kitchen functionality. I remember waking up to birdsong and the soft rustle of palm leaves—not a sound you expect in the UK, but somehow it made sense there.
What really made Middle Colenso feel like home was its location. We could get to Penzance or St Ives within minutes, but still return to our peaceful little corner at the end of each day.
The Morning That Started with Coffee
One morning, I took a small detour—just me and the car—to Porthleven. I’d heard about a café known for its house-roasted beans, and as a committed coffee nerd, I couldn’t resist. I ordered a flat white that was so silky and rich, I nearly ordered a second just to hold onto the experience. The pastries—especially the gluten-free lemon polenta cake—were so good my wife requested I go back the next day just to bring more home.
Dinner by the Sea
There was this one evening—no real plans, just hunger and a beautiful sunset—when we ended up at a sleek restaurant overlooking the harbor. The menu was refreshingly straightforward: fresh seafood, crisp vegetables, just a few ingredients on each plate. I had grilled turbot that flaked apart like butter, and a fish soup so deeply flavored it felt like the sea had been simmered for hours. The kids tried squid meatballs (and actually liked them), while my wife and I shared a plate of charred hispi cabbage that somehow stole the show.
We sat outdoors, watched the boats sway in the tide, and talked about nothing important. That’s a meal I’ll remember.
Art, Nature, and Quiet at Tremenheere Gardens
Midweek, we decided to trade the beach for something a little different. Tremenheere Sculpture Gardens was like stepping into another world. Tropical plants, thick and wild, surrounded unexpected art installations. The standout was a piece by James Turrell, an open-air skyspace that made you stop and look up—really look up. It was silent there, in the best way. The kind of quiet that clears your mind.
A Hidden Lunch at The Big Green Shed
On the road back from a beach walk, we stumbled across The Big Green Shed. It didn’t look like much—just a simple structure surrounded by tall grass and wildflowers—but the smell coming from the kitchen was impossible to ignore. The menu was hand-written and changed daily. That afternoon, we had bao buns with sticky pork, and fluffy gluten-free pancakes with citrus butter. It felt like a local secret, the kind of place you only find when you’re not looking.
A Quick Dose of Culture
St Ives is full of galleries and little artisan shops, but we made a beeline for the Tate. It’s small, but mighty. The Rothko murals drew us in with their quiet intensity, while Beatriz Milhazes’ bright, rhythmic works seemed to bounce off the walls. Afterward, we ducked into a Thai spot nearby for lunch—hot noodles, a cold Singha, and a good view of the street below.
One Bakery, Two Visits (Okay, Maybe Three)
St Ives Bakery. If you know, you know. The cruffins were towering, sugar-dusted marvels filled with seasonal jam. The pasties were hefty, flaky, packed with savory fillings. The sourdough had the perfect chew. Yes, we waited in line. Yes, we went back more than once. No regrets.
Coastline That Feels Like a Painting
You can’t go to Cornwall and not walk part of the South West Coast Path. We picked a stretch near Sennen Cove and followed it until the cliffs dropped into the sea. It was quiet except for the waves and the occasional sheep. The kids collected rocks, we passed surfers in neoprene suits, and everything smelled like salt and wind and sunshine.
It wasn’t a fast hike. It didn’t need to be.
Already Dreaming of the Next Trip
As we packed the car at the end of the week, someone mentioned a nearby farm that runs a seasonal tasting menu—only a few tables, all local produce. We made a note to book it next time. And there will be a next time.
Cornwall didn’t just offer good food and pretty views. It offered something quieter, slower, more grounded. A reminder that a good trip isn’t about doing everything—it’s about tasting it, really tasting it, one meal, one view, one slow morning at a time.