Devon Sent: A Foodie Tour in the South-West of England

For a long time North Devon was viewed as opulent South Devon’s poorer cousin. While the South boasts Dartmouth, Totnes et al, where you can merrily reverse your yacht into a Michelin star restaurant or order a macrobiotic vegan salad without the locals going all Straw Dogs on your ass, the North was seen as a bit cream tea, scrumpy and a go on the 2p slot machines will do me, ta. This is a view cultivated in part due to the sheer difficulty of reaching the damn place - thanks to criminal short-sightedness the local train lines were shut down, leaving just one rickety branch line into the North out of the county’s capital Exeter, whilst many roads are high-hedged single country lanes where, as a child, our day trips consisted of four hours staring directly up the rectum of whatever animal was in the trailer in front of our car.

It’s worth the effort, mind - if the credit crunch has bitten and you want to holiday in the UK, North Devon has been re-discovering its local larder and slowly transforming itself into a mini foodie haven. Whilst this gentrification has inevitably led to a few early-noughties chrome wine bar and ‘Thai’ food provincial monstrosities, the wiser establishments have ditched their reformed scampi scrapings and factory produced green curries in favour of reviving a taste for the spankingly fresh produce that has been fished out, dug up or shot down on their doorstep. The coast may not be the hive of piscine activity it once was, but still offers up lobster, crab, pollack and other non-endangered delicacies, the countryside and moorland are home to ethically farmed livestock and wild game, and there are fields full of asparagus, new potatoes, berries and many more virtuous treats.

One of the area’s most charming examples of regeneration is the cheeky reclaiming of those dismantled railway lines as well-mapped cycle tracks, traffic-free and perfect for novices, families, tandems and anyone who wants a riverside walk without a constant stream of traffic on their tail.

Fremington Quay Café on the Tarka Trail is a masterclass in how to cater to hungry hordes in a cheeringly non-exploitative way. Dishing up bowls of mussels from the estuary it overlooks and pies stuffed with lamb and laver from its neighbouring saltmarshes - wash them down with organic West Country cider, watch kids crabbing over the wrought iron fence and wonder how you’ll ever get back on that bike again.

If exercise defeats you, follow the coastline (well served by buses) round to the once-shabby fishing village of Appledore. Although a sufferer of the classic second home syndrome that can make it seem like a ghost town on weekdays and out of season, the arrival of artists, a book festival and seafood restaurants has seen the return of day visitors and recreational locals. The Beaver Inn sits right on the shore wall, specialises in local fish dishes like monkfish and scallops in cream, or whole plaice on the bone, and has its pumps filled with light and drinkable Appledore Ale from the smallscale Jollyboat Brewery. Its expansive glass windows mean you can lull away a day watching an animated picture postcard of windsurfers, trawlers and rowing races with a soundtrack of lapping waves and clanging moorings. But note The Beaver is still firmly a pub, it hasn’t gussied itself up to gastropub levels. We’re talking pool table, propped-up colour TV and flashing fruit machines, not exposed beams and white linen, but that makes it all the more enjoyable.

Appledore is also home to a sight that gives me a Proustian childhood flashback - a Hockings Ice Cream Van. Produced by the same family since 1936 and a genuine local institution, a Hockings is an unadulterated lump of frozen dairy which should be eaten topped with a ball of fresh clotted cream, with a flake stuck in for good measure. Though you can get versions flavoured with coffee, mint or raspberry, purists stick with plain vanilla. For a truly heart-warming sight, visit their website and watch as a man gleefully slices through a lump of butter the size of his own torso and adds it to a mix that very probably makes just one child’s portion.

We’re certainly into lactose county here and whatever you do, don’t shirk that cream tea. It may be retro and you may bring the average age of that tea room crashing down by a few decades, but when done properly with warm massive and misshapen fruit scones, yellow-crusted clotted cream, homemade strawberry jam and a vat of loose leaf tea, it’s an all-is-right-with-the-world, inner-glow experience that’s hard to rival. Head along the Exmoor coastal road and stop off at Brendon House near Lynton to enjoy their Cream Tea-devoted garden while keeping an eye out for wild ponies and deer. Burn it off by walking three miles along the cliff path, with its views across the sea to Wales, to The Blue Ball Inn, a sprawling 13th century coaching inn with a vast inglenook fire perfect for toasting your feet back to life while nursing a pint of their eponymous, specially brewed bitter.

An area abundant with places to pitch your tent, North Devon is a good self-catering option. If you want to cook local produce for yourself, visit the main town of Barnstaple (to shop if not to stay - it’s a fairly generic ‘ooohhh, we’ve just got a Pizza Express’ small town and you’re better based somewhere more picturesque and peaceful). Its central Victorian Pannier Market and adjoining Butcher’s Row have sprung back to life over the last few years and were recently featured in the Independent’s Top Ten Food Markets. Sure, there are days when all you can buy are felt artworks and second hand Clive Barker novels, but on Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays it overflows with local produce that is seriously kind on the pocket (bunches of asparagus pulled out of the ground that morning for a quid, homemade rabbit pies still containing buckshot for a few pence more, buckets of wild sea bass from Bideford Bay cheaper than their farmed friends you’ll find elsewhere). Round it off by choosing from over one hundred local cheeses at the specialist West Country Farm Cheese Co. and stocking up on apple custard doughnuts and Germanic breads from the East & West Bakery. Despite recent marketing drives like the North Devon Food Festival, there is still an endearing coyness about the area - there’s no trumpet-blowing and no hard-sell, meaning the best food can be got at cafés, pubs and shops with a refreshing lack of pretension or wild financial mark-ups. Whilst many visitors trample through Devon to get to its neighbouring Cornwall, the smart way to avoid the throngs is to brake a little early.