Discovering Carmarthenshire: Gardens, Castles, and Culinary Radicals in Rural Wales
If I walk two minutes up the hill from my cottage I can see a foreign country. At least, that is how I always refer to Wales, which has been a kind of mystical almost mythical entity for my entire existence. Because if you are brought up on the West Somerset coast, that is what you see across the waves. Wales. A foreign country where they speak a foreign language.
My dad used to take us brothers to Snowdonia on climbing holidays – also our uncle was the mayor of Newport for a while – plus my old friend, the late playwright and author Jeremy Sandford, used to wax lyrical about the farm and hippy commune he owned in the Welsh hills. But apart from those brief links, Wales has remained, for me, a mystical land on the horizon.
So imagine my delight when a travel PR recently invited me to visit Carmarthenshire with the words: “You’re going to love it. It’s highly rural, very beautiful, and full of friendly and interesting people.”
A Warm Welcome and Generous Helpings
Here are two things to say immediately about crossing that big bridge from the Westcountry to Wales. First is: they are very friendly people. I remember a time when Welsh nationalists were burning holiday cottages with the theme, “Come home to a real fire” and Wales was given a name for being an unfriendly place. Nothing could be further from the truth. It’s as warm and as welcoming as any place I’ve visited in Europe.
Another thing I’d say about crossing the bridge… Go hungry. Welsh portions are extremely generous. They love to feed their guests. At least, that was the case in half a dozen local eateries I visited last week. When I mentioned it to a waitress after a delicious but gargantuan meal, she laughed: “Don’t worry if you couldn’t eat it all. Chef just loves feeding people. He says, ‘My job is to have people walking out of here feeling full’.”
The first hint I had of generous hospitality was at the National Botanic Garden of Wales where we spent a wonderful afternoon. I had a thing called “beef cawl” for lunch - a big bowl of thick but delicious soup. Think: the filling of a Cornish pasty but without the pastry. Just the thing for a nippy day, and wonderful. But, blimey, we didn’t really need anything more that day.
And talking about the gardens… Wow! What a fantastic surprise. It really is a must-see place to visit.
Set across more than 500 acres of the scenic Tywi Valley, its crowning glory is Norman Foster’s Great Glasshouse - a vast, sweeping dome of glass and aluminium that rises out of the green hills like a stranded mothership. Beneath that single, colossal span of glass, you walk straight into the Mediterranean, Chile, Australia, and California. In late October, while autumn winds were blowing in from the Atlantic, we were strolling past olive trees, proteas, and scented shrubbery, oblivious to the season outside. Elsewhere there are restored Regency lakes, waterfalls, and wild meadows dotted with rare, jewel-like waxcap fungi, but it was the architectural audacity in the middle of rural Wales that really knocked me sideways.
Cycling and Walking the Tywi Valley
Before visiting the gardens, we’d taken a stroll along the newly opened Tywi Valley Path, which runs right past the area. It is a glorious, traffic-free route linking Carmarthen with Llandeilo over some 13 miles along an old railway track - effectively Wales’s own Camel Trail. Even a short walk towards the ruins of Dryslwyn Castle gave a glimpse of how magnificent it is for cyclists, walkers, and anyone who prefers their scenery served without passing juggernauts.
From the gardens, we made our way to our lodgings just outside the pleasant little market town of Llandeilo. We were staying at Llwynhelig Manor, a handsome country pile set in lovely grounds where we were tucked away in the converted stable block. Beautifully appointed, peacefully rural, and warm as toast, it felt less like self-catering accommodation and more like being lent the keys to a friend’s private estate.
That evening we popped into Llandeilo to dine at The Cawdor, an imposing Georgian coaching inn. It was a wet Tuesday night and the place was packed. With great food and enormous helpings, I suppose that shouldn’t have been a surprise. What a warm and friendly place.
Llandeilo, perched above the River Towy, is a busy little town of pastel-painted townhouses, curious antique shops, independent butchers and coffee stops. There’s a sort of Totnes vibe to the place - it’s proud to be different and it works.
The next morning confirmed it when we strolled down Rhosmaen Street to Castle Courtyard for breakfast at Pitchfork & Provision. It is a wonderful bakery, café, and deli where the smell roasting coffee hits before you even enter its courtyard. On the wall was a map showing their local supply chain, alongside a handwritten slogan saying: “Don’t buy local just because it makes you feel good. Buy local because it is good.”
Coastal Drama at Llansteffan
Suitably fortified after a “full Welsh” including local bacon and homemade baked beans, we drove west to the coast at Llansteffan, where the Tywi Estuary spills out into Carmarthen Bay. I instantly fell in love with the place, which might be something to do with my addiction to Dylan Thomas’s Under Milkwood. Laugharne, where that was based, is located on another estuary just around the corner.
From the car park, we climbed through hanging beech woods onto the headland dominated by the magnificent ruins of Llansteffan Castle. Built by the Normans over an Iron Age earthwork, its broken stone towers look out across vast, shifting sands towards the Gower Peninsula and Caldey Island. No gate. No turnstile. No payment. You just walk in and explore. The tide was sweeping out over the sandy flats, and the sheer scale of this part of the Welsh coastline took my breath away.
After a stroll along the coast path, we returned to the village for lunch at the Inn at the Sticks. It was named the Best Local Restaurant in Wales in the 2024 Good Food Guide, and within minutes we could understand why.
The food was amazing. The place is based on a sharing plate system (of which I heartily approve) and our thick slice of sewin (sea trout) cured in beetroot was one of the best tasting fish dishes I’ve had in ages. Another dish of hake in a fabulous sauce was a masterpiece. And terrific value… Sharing three such plates costs around £45 for two people (all we needed for lunch) and for cooking this good that’s a excellent value.
The Culinary Radical of Carmarthen
By mid-afternoon, we had driven up to the town of Carmarthen for what turned out to be a fascinating appointment. In a corner of Mansel Street sits The Warren which, from the pavement, looks like an ordinary, unpretentious bistro - but step through the front door and the place rambles away into a labyrinth of mezzanine levels, back rooms, and prep kitchens.
More remarkable still is the man who created it: Deri Reed. Very much NOT your average restaurateur. Crowned the 2024 Community Food Hero at the BBC Food and Farming Awards - where a ceremonial chopping-board trophy was handed to him by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall - Deri is a culinary radical.
He was brought up locally on an organic smallholding by a nurse mother and a father who was a celebrated criminal defence barrister dedicated to legal aid work for the disadvantaged. His parents originally met on an alternative hippie commune, so an innate distrust of corporate extraction and a deep commitment to the underdog runs through his bones.
After years running a zero-waste stall at Cardiff Farmers’ Market and winning green awards at Glastonbury Festival, Deri crowdfunded £20,000 from local Carmarthen folk to turn a derelict café into The Warren in 2016. He banned industrial lagers and mass-market colas, serving local beers, organic wines, and dishes built entirely around meat and vegetables grown within a few miles of town.
Yet running a commercial restaurant seven days a week nearly broke him. Swallowed by rising utility bills, business rates, and endless paperwork, Deri suffered burnout and took the drastic decision to “mothball” the restaurant.
Now, The Warren has risen again, reopened just a few weeks ago under a cooperative model that challenges the economics of British catering. Deri has brought in two partners to handle the finances and marketing, freeing him to do what he loves: cook, mentor, and chat with customers.
At the moment there are just three services a week - Friday and Saturday nights, and Sunday lunch. But here’s the thing: every worker, from teenage kitchen porter to head chef and Deri himself, is paid the exact same flat, fair hourly rate.
Before we left, Deri packed us off with an armful of local artisan cheeses, charcuterie, and a bottle of wine to enjoy back at our lodgings.
Sitting, looking out over the quiet Carmarthenshire countryside that evening, I realised my lifelong view from the Exmoor hills had been missing the point. Wales isn’t some distant, mythical foreign shore. It is a land of boundless warmth, breathtaking countryside, and people who understand that the best way to change the world is simply to bring folk together and feed them properly.
Fact File
Where to Stay: Llwynhelig Manor — self-catering accommodation set in lovely grounds outside Llandeilo, priced from £155 a night for the one-bedroom Gardener’s Cwtch.
What to Visit: National Botanic Garden of Wales — home to Norman Foster’s Great Glasshouse, Regency lakes, and restored parkland.
Things to Do: Explore the castle ruins and coastal path at Llansteffan, or walk and cycle the open sections of the new traffic-free Tywi Valley Path.
Further Information: For comprehensive visitor guides, itineraries, and trail updates across the county, visit Discover Carmarthenshire.
