I ate the best food in Pembrokeshire inside a secret garden

Wales Online

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I ate the best food in Pembrokeshire inside a secret garden
It was an eight-hour part foraging adventure and part wild dining theatre on the Welsh coast
My foraging adventure deep on the Pembrokeshire coast
(Image: Portia Jones )
'I think my dinner is staring at me' is not something I expected to say in my adult life, but this is Wales, and things are different here.
The meal in question? A gargantuan spider crab, freshly hand-dived from Pembrokeshire's clean, nutrient-rich waters. With its spindly legs and armoured exoskeleton, it looked like it had crawled straight out of the 'Upside Down', and frankly, I wasn't entirely sure I should be eating something that resembled a rejected Stranger Things prop.
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Spider crabs aren't the only surprising sustenance found beneath the frothing waves. Our bountiful Welsh coastline is a well-stocked larder, bursting with laver seaweed, molluscs, prawns, crabs and edible plants, all ripe for the picking if you know where to look.
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Luckily, I'm not alone in navigating this alien banquet. I'm deep in a wooded Pembrokeshire valley on a Tân A Môr Forage and Feast experience: part foraging adventure and part wild dining theatre on the coast of Pembrokeshire.
The setting is nothing short of idyllic, in a secluded Walled Garden in St Ishmaels, where a leafy valley leads down to a secluded smugglers' cove - Monk's Haven.
The setting is nothing short of idyllic
(Image: Portia Jones )
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Once a vicarage for the medieval church next door, this Grade II-listed manor now moonlights as one of the most low-key spectacular wedding venues in Wales, with Georgian Gothic architecture and stone outbuildings turned boutique accommodation.
It has held its Cadw listing since 1998 as 'an unusual local example of pattern-book design,' which is heritage-speak for 'fancy and rare'.
Today, the vibe has shifted from holy to highly curated, with the wedding venue space reimagined as a Pinterest fever dream: hand-built fire pits sending up plumes of woodsmoke, a campfire, and one gloriously long communal table adorned with wildflowers and candles that scream 'rustic but make it editorial'. There's even a campfire for post-dinner wine and song. It's all very peak millennial, and I'm here for it.
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Judging by our hosts' hand-painted menus and breezy introduction, we're in for a full-on edible adventure. Over the next eight hours, this multi-course experience will take us from the forest floor to the tidal zone before we sit down for long-form dining.
One gloriously long communal table adorned with wildflowers and candles
(Image: Portia Jones )
We'll be led through mossy trails and down to a seaweed-strewn cove, where our hosts will explain exactly what we're eating and where it was lurking before it hits our plate.
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Our expert hosts Kate Powell and Jonathon Griffiths are at the heart of the Tân A Môr Forage and Feast experience, and as clearly smitten with each other as they are with creating carefully crafted menus that read like love letters to Pembrokeshire's produce.
"We were cooking like this nearly every weekend, just for ourselves, and then we started cooking for friends, and it grew from there," says Kate, stirring an aromatic forest green nettle and wildflower soup while Jon stokes a roaring fire for our upcoming courses.
"We were cooking like this nearly every weekend, just for ourselves, and then we started cooking for friends, and it grew from there"
(Image: Portia Jones )
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Kate, who has an art degree, says her background shapes how she approaches cooking and creating foodie gatherings, 'I love trying to be creative with food outdoors. It just feels right.'
'I used to run a cocktail bar for weddings, but I always wanted something more creative. When I worked in restaurants before, it was so formal nothing like this relaxed, community vibe we have now.'
The dishes certainly sound impressive. From hand-dived spider crab cooked on an open fire to elderflower fritters and Pembrokeshire scallops laced with garlic butter, their inventive dishes are packed with local flavour, literally pulled from land and sea. For the latest restaurant news and reviews, sign up to our food and drink newsletter here
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Dishes are cooked over open fires
(Image: Portia Jones )
There are also hulks of fire-charred ribeye, creamy wedges of Perl Wen and Perl Las from nearby Caws Cenarth, and honeyed flatbreads scattered with foraged fruit and nuts. These carefully crafted dishes are immaculately plated, with decorative flourishes and incredible attention to detail.
As the pair move around the cooking stations with quiet coordination, it's clear this joint vision is a blend of complementary skills and instinctive teamwork.
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'We wanted to combine everything we're good at and share what we love,' Kate explains.
'We've both lived away for a large part of our adult lives and when we came back, it was like seeing Pembrokeshire properly for the first time. You realise how much you love the place you're from and want to celebrate it.'
Gargantuan spider crabs, freshly hand-dived from Pembrokeshire's clean, nutrient-rich waters
(Image: Portia Jones )
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That sense of rooted pride fuels their mission to use local suppliers and showcase native ingredients, even the ones locals don't always know are on their doorstep. 'There's not a big food industry here,' Kate admits, 'but we have all these incredible producers hidden away.'
Manning the open fire and flipping hunks of beef, Jon chimes in: 'We've been in and out of each other's lives. Then, about two years ago, we found each other again and with that came food, foraging, and a shared love for the outdoors.'
The passion for creative cooking is evident in the beautifully presented amuse bouches that begin to circulate, including what appears to be a deep-fried flower that Kate assures me is edible. "These are oxide daisies", she enthusiastically explains.
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The passion for creative cooking is evident
(Image: Portia Jones )
"You have to pick them wild from hedgerows; these aren't the ones you see in the garden. You coat them with tempura batter, flash fry them, and sprinkle a light coconut powdered sugar over them." And the taste? "Like a daisy and a doughnut came together."
Despite considering myself an aspirational foodie, I didn't know you could deep fry flowers. I suppose the ultimate point of a foraging feast isn't to merely dine; it's to develop a newfound appreciation of biodiversity and discover edible species that coexist in our abundant environment.
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Kate Powell and Jonathon Griffiths are at the heart of the Tân A Môr Forage and Feast experience
(Image: Portia Jones )
We leave the garden and follow Kate and Jon toward the coast to better understand the origins of what we're feasting on.
We walk through a tree-lined valley that drops quietly down to Monk Haven, a secluded, seaweed-rich cove. Once home to a monastic settlement, it's now an idyllic spot where locals can swim and SUP relatively undisturbed by hordes of tourists and TikTokkers.
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Jon gestures towards the ocean as he skillfully shucks a massive haul of oysters. 'We'll talk about where the oysters come from, gather shoreline greens, and if you're into seaweed or shell identification, we've got charts."
We ate freshly shucked oysters right on the shore
(Image: Portia Jones )
Thankfully, sustainably harvesting seaweed and live shellfish for personal consumption, subject to conditions, is legal in the UK. Phew, a seafood crime is thankfully averted.
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Jon explains that native British oyster populations have declined dramatically over the decades due to habitat loss, pollution, over-harvesting, and disease. However, these tasty molluscs are thriving in pockets of pristine Pembrokeshire thanks to a native oyster restoration project and nutrient-rich, clean waters.
Today, we're sampling freshly shucked oysters right on the shore. These Atlantic Edge Pembrokeshire Rock Oysters PGI are cultivated in pristine Class A shellfish waters, the highest quality standard in the UK. They can be slurped back nude or topped with fiery Pembrokeshire chilli farm sauces hotter than the sun.
I'm an oyster girlie now
(Image: Portia Jones )
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I used to politely decline oysters, convinced they were just sea-flavoured mucus with a stellar PR team. But after reluctantly slurping one of these fresh-from-the-shore beauties in Anglesey, I've fully converted. I'm an oyster girlie now.
Salty, briny, slightly sweet like the ocean in edible form, I'll take any excuse to knock one back. Especially when paired with a glass of champers.
Oysters consumed, we're plodded back to our secret garden for candlelit long-form dining with a showstopping centrepiece.
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We settle around the long table with strangers, a mix of locals and outsiders. Awkward small talk quickly leads to navel-gazing as the wine flows and generous summer party invitations are enthusiastically issued.
It's no surprise, really, that sharing food is one of humanity's oldest social instincts
(Image: Portia Jones )
It's no surprise, really, that sharing food is one of humanity's oldest social instincts. Biologists have watched chimps and bonobos, our closest primate relatives, doing the same within their groups. The first shared meals likely happened around campfires, long before plates or recipes existed.
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Cooking required teamwork, hunting, gathering, and building fires, so meals like this almost demand community. As glasses were filled and laughter and stories spread, it felt like we were tapping into something ancestral. Wine helps, of course.
Over the merry conversational din, Jon appeared with the star of the dining show, portioned up spider crab he'd hand-plucked from Pembrokeshire's waters.
The star of the dining show, portioned up spider crab
(Image: Portia Jones )
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These oversized crustaceans were steamed in bladderwrack seaweed, roasted on red-hot coals and served with smoked butter and focaccia. Having never eaten something that looked like it had scuttled out of a sci-fi movie, I was completely at a loss.
Jon, clearly the crab whisperer, gives instructions without missing a beat. 'First, you dig into the end of the spider crab. The claws work like lobsters, but thin, paper-like skin covers the sweet meat inside the knuckles.
I always start with the claws, then snap off the legs. There's not much meat there, but it's worth it. After that, pick up the body and eat it straight from your hand.' Oh, so straightforward then. Phew.
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Eating the slightly sweet crab by the fistful, polite chat soon turned into local gossip and roaring laughter. This wasn't just a standard shared meal but a lesson in eating outside your comfort zone with equally adventurous diners.
The food is divine
(Image: Portia Jones )
Kate proudly introduces our next course, sirloin steak from a Hereford cow raised at Green Lane Farm in Waterston, a family-run beef and sheep farm just outside Milford Haven. "The beef was butchered nearby in Prendergast, making it as local as possible".
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On the plate, it came with creamy potatoes from Trehill Farm in Harlows, wild mushrooms foraged nearby, and fire-charred carrots that still held a hint of smoke.
Jon expertly sears the steak over an open-fire cooking station he built himself. The outside chars perfectly, giving way to a tender pink centre, exactly how quality meat should be served.
It's no surprise the dishes are sumptuous. Pembrokeshire is having a serious foodie moment right now. With indie producers, creative chefs, and charming pubs all championing local produce, the county's produce scene is buzzing.
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Pembrokeshire is having a serious foodie moment right now
(Image: Portia Jones )
It's called the 'cottage garden of Wales' for good reason: thanks to the Gulf Stream, the growing season is longer, the pastures are lush, and the land is fertile.
Here, farmers, fishermen, and chefs work together to keep food local and sustainable, which means fresher food and fewer food miles. With a focus on creative cooking, community connections and sustainable foraging, Kate and Jon fit perfectly into Pembrokeshire's thriving foodie scene.
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Planning these elaborate dining events isn't easy
(Image: Portia Jones )
'We love celebrating what people around us are doing, says Kate as we sit by the crackling fire "We're the final step, but so many have worked hard before the food gets to the table.'
Jon sums it up perfectly, 'It's all about connection to nature, food, and each other. We want people to slow down, learn where their dinner comes from, and feel part of something bigger.'
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But planning these elaborate dining events isn't easy. 'It's weeks of prep,' Kate says. 'But it's worth it to share this experience."
The multitalented duo also keeps things as local and handmade as possible, from hand-building the outdoor cooking stations to cutting down the wood for fires and painting the menus.
The multitalented duo also keeps things as local and handmade as possible
(Image: Portia Jones )
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It's evidently a real labour of love, and they both seem content but knackered as the sun dipped below the horizon and the bar till continued to ring.
As guests launched into an off-key song behind us, Jon got a touch sentimental. "I feel so lucky that Kate and I found each other, he says adoringly. "It's a great combination of her love of cooking and my love of exploring outdoors.
There aren't many people you can harvest a spider crab with or collect seaweed with. We've just really bonded over the things we've done"
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This spirit of genuine connection ultimately set the tone for the day-long event.
It wasn't your typical polished, corporate food gig; it was an authentic community mash-up
(Image: Portia Jones )
It wasn't your typical polished, corporate food gig; it was an authentic community mash-up, where strangers swapped stories and plates with equal gusto, connections forged, and Instagram handles swapped.
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After receiving so many wine-fuelled BBQ invitations from my newfound foodie friends, I fully plan to take advantage of a few. Shall I bring red or white, Steffi?
The next Tân A Môr Forage and Feast experience takes place on Saturday July 12. Information and booking here.
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