USP: This relaxed and friendly boutique hotel in the endearing seaside town of Fowey offers pamper breaks with nearby treatment centre The Oasis Rooms.

AMBIENCE: Set on the waterfront with a wonderful outdoor dining terrace, this 11 bedroom hotel has been converted from a Seaman’s Mission into a calm, uncluttered and comfortable place to stay with friendly, helpful staff. Simple bedrooms with prettily coloured linen curtains feel full of natural light and feature banana leaf furniture, Egyptian cotton linens and firm, comfy beds. It’s certainly worth paying extra for a room with an uplifting estuary view. There’s a little bar and elegant sofas to relax on at one end of the restaurant looking out to the main street, though no separate sitting room for guests.

Treatments take place a few doors up on the first floor of a grade II listed Victorian building at The Oasis Rooms, which is clean, comfortable and run with care by owner Clare. Choose from a wide range of facials, beauty treatments and massages, including specially devised treatments using Spiezia products, handmade in Cornwall and certified 100 per cent organic by the Soil Association. Therapists have years of experience, which is unusual for a treatment centre in a reasonably remote seaside town.

There are two treatment rooms set back from the busyness of the main street, a spacious reception area, a wooden-decked outdoor terrace for summer days and, on the floor above, a spacious relaxation room. Wooden floors and pale walls are set off with splashes of deep greens and purples in the curtains, cushions and embroidered throws, giving the place a homely, hippy-chic feel.

QUALITY OF EXPERIENCE: I found this a lovely combination for a wellbeing break – long coastal walks from the doorstep, excellent, seasonal food, comfortable, sunny bedrooms, fun boutique shopping, visits to cafés for tea and cake (organic, naturally) - and of course some good pampering at The Oasis Rooms.

My husband Tom had a thorough full body massage with Zoe, who was sensitive to the tight muscles in his back, while I indulged in a three-hour pregnancy pamper package which included a specially-devised pregnancy massage together with a facial and pedicure. My therapist, Tanya, was a sympathetic mother of two, with a firm but gentle touch and a peaceful nature - during the pedicure, for example, she let me read in peace rather than chatting.

We booked our treatments in advance for a Saturday, and enjoyed a coastal stroll beforehand. After, we ambled back to our hotel room to flop on our bed and stare out over the estuary with some tea. After a little snooze, we curled up to watch a DVD of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca – the writer took a house in the area – which was just the ticket before our evening meal.

FOOD AND DRINK: Herbal teas and water are available at the Oasis Rooms. At the hotel’s restaurant, head chef Ben Bass serves up tasty, bistro-style meals using local, seasonal ingredients – you can also attend a half day food foraging session while you’re here with an expert forager at the Wild Food School in nearby Lostwithiel. We found the menu especially good with fish and comforting puddings, and loved the home-made seed, muesli and yoghurt concoction served with maple syrup at breakfast. Vegetarian and special diets can be catered for.

IN-CROWD: Couples on mini-breaks and summer holidays, though because of the friendly staff you’d feel perfectly at ease here alone.

WALLET WATCH: From £170 per night bed & breakfast based on two sharing a classic double, sea view rooms from £200 per night. Set dinner from £27.50 for two courses. Treatments at the Oasis Rooms are very good value – a 60-minute full body back massage costs £40, a three-hour pregnancy pamper package a mere £80.
 

Mean comeback for the terrine. A retro French delicacy is popping up on menus again. Becky Sheaves learns the basics.

I’ve noticed lately that terrine seems to be popping up on the menu all over the place these days. A few years back, it seemed hopelessly stuck in the 1970s to cram baking tins with chunks of game, ham, duck and even seafood.

So why is this retro French delicacy suddenly so smart? And, more to the point, how on Earth do you make one? This week I felt it was definitely time I found out more.

My guide was Head Chef Ben Bass of The Old Quay House Hotel and Restaurant in Fowey, South East Cornwall. For me, it was a case of getting back to my roots as my great grandparents came from this lovely harbourside town, a famous smugglers’ haunt back in the day.

But I was there on legitimate business. And Ben is surely the right person to start me off making terrines. After all, he did spend three years begin taught by that most consummately French chef, Raymond Blanc himself.

“Raymond was exactly like he is on television, a tough but fair teacher. Everything had to be perfect,” Ben remembers. “If he liked my cooking he’d leave me alone to get on with my work. If it was a failure in any way, I’d be cleaning spinach or scrubbing mussels all day.”

For my masterclass, Ben, still only 27 – he trained with Raymond from the age of 16 to 19 – chose three dishes. One is a truly classic French duck terrine, and there’s a British version made more simply with ham hock.

I’d asked for advice on a fish terrine but he steered me towards a tian of crab instead, where the ingredients are piled up into a little tower just before serving. “It’s a lighter style which suits seafood better,” he explains.

Ben says the great thing about a terrine – like so much of classic French cuisine – is that it uses cheaper cuts of meat and stretches expensive ingredients. A ham hock costs just a couple of pounds and, in terrine form, will feed six.

The worst of terrines can look like unappetising chunks of meat in jelly, though. So Ben has made sure that all these dishes look appealing by adding colourful elements. There are lightly cooked carrots and handfuls of fresh parsley in the hock terrine.

The duck version has green pistachios, which look fabulously jewel-like once it is sliced. And the crab tian with its rough-chopped guacamole topping is quite simply a thing of great beauty.

He advises I go home and experiment with the recipes. “You can ring the changes in all sorts of ways,” he says. The thing to remember is that the classic French recipe for terrine is that the proportions are always equal – one part meat, one part fat and one part liver.

To my relief, I did not have to go near a sheet of gelatine all day. The ham hock produced enough natural gelatine to set from being cooked first on the bone.

The duck terrine is held together with beaten egg, and a spoonful of mayonnaise provides enough “stick” for the crab dish. I can honestly say that all three of these spectacular dishes aren’t overly tricky in any way. What’s more, I’ve managed to smuggle the recipes out of Fowey – so here they are to delight you, too.
 

Sea Bass flitted among the dark chains deep down inn the blue ocean, but Ben Bass - a Fowey chef with a rather apt name - and boat skipper Will Hancock weren't looking at fish. What was catching their attention - and just about filling their entire watery field of vision - were mussels. Lots and lots of gleaming black mussels. So many mussels, indeed, that Will was worried.

"I'm not sure the winch on the this boat is strong enough to bring that lot up," he murmured. He tried not twice, but three times, before finding a might chain of the purple black jewels just light enough that it could be hoisted aboard. Even then the other four of us aboard had to counterbalance things by standing on the opposite side, to stop the 20ft boat capsizing.

Once a great chain bearing the molluscs was safely aboard, Ben ripped a mussel from its beard, cleaving its shell apart and devouring its meat contents raw and alive. "Yes!" he sighed. "These really are the Rolls Royce of mussels."

Which is exactly what we'd expected them to be. The promise of seeing and tasting Rolls Royce standard mussels was why I'd be invited down to Fowey to visit the excellent waterfront Old Quay House Hotel, where Ben is Head Chef and the proprietor is Jane Carson who had heard about a revolutionary new mussel farm right on her doorstep.
 
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Five Cornish Boutique Hotels

Bristling with yachts, and with views to Polruan and Daphne du Maurier's old house in Bodrinnick, Fowey is preposterously picturesque - in a good way. The Old Quay House was built in 1852 as a seaman's mission and, viewed from its terrace on the estuary, the building looks almost too narrow to contain a plush boutique hotel. Londoners Jane and Roy Carson bought it as a B&B in 2002 and Jane, who used to work for the marketing consortium Leading Hotels of the World, has opted for a range of styles in the 11 bedrooms: numbers 6 and 12 have roll-top baths and beds with headboards woven from Javanese bananaleaves (plus estuary views), while the newly refurbished number 3 has a New England feel.

Other recent additions include a penthouse with a polished-wood floor and a bath in the bedroom, and a new-look bar, which has Jenny Wren sofas covered in dramatic black and cream fabrics, and a striking photo of bunny girls bending over a billiards table. Chef Ben Bass cooks modern British/French food and the mussels couldn't be fresher. Most guests are couples. They come to walk the south-west coastal path, look out for basking sharks, buy pretty quilts in Fowey and drink hot chocolate at the wonderfully idiosyncratic Pinky Murphy's Café down the road.
 

Choose one of the rooms perched on the water's edge in picturesque cobbled Fowey, and pray for a bit of wind and rain. What could be more perfect than being snugly holed up somewhere designed with romance in mind, with salty air lashing the windows? The Old Quay House has revamped its rooms to create the ultimate seaside retreat, with rooms that maximise light (some are in a creamy palette, others with vibrant purple walls), cream chairs and sofas and what must be the widest beds in Cornwall. If the weather's good enough (or you're just very brave, or in possession of a souwester) eat on the terrace overlooking the Fowey estuary, avoiding the dive-bombing seagulls.
 

Its core is a characterful old building in the centre of Fowey, with a new extension overlooking the estuary and harbour. The harmonious interior is embellished by funky artworks, and the informal restaurant spills out on to a teak deck with spectacular waterfront views. Bedrooms are traditional in the old part of the building, contemporary in the new, all with state of the art technology. One is in a glass turret – magical.
 

The Old Quay House is the sort of boutique hotel that radiates quiet luxury. From the welcoming lobby decorated in warm, earthy tones, to the individually designed rooms, this is a place made for relaxation. And its policy of banning the under-12s ensures that the only squawking you'll hear will be from the seagulls.

Some of the 12 rooms are decadent, purple walled boudoirs; others offer a more classic European look. Ours, described as an 'island living' room, felt like an upmarket fishermen's shack weathered by sand and sea, with pale golden colours and white antique furniture.

The hotel's Q restaurant has a fine local reputation, serving well-cooked, well-sourced local food. Fish dominates the menu and my Cornish plaice - a lovely slab cooked simply in butter and crowned with tiny, sweet brown prawns - was delicious. There's a beautiful sun terrace jutting out over the Fowey estuary, from where the most arduous thing you'll have to do is watch the rather slow river traffic.

With some excellent restaurants (including Sam's, a great favourite of Rick Stein) and this luxurious hotel, Fowey has an entirely different feel to the resorts of north Cornwall which are overrun with baggy-shorted surfers.
 

First impressions: A Grade II former seaman's mission sandwiched between a narrow one-way street and the beautiful Fowey estuary. Once inside, it's all glass, stone, white walls and traditional-meets-contemporary decor; a high-budget 'architect designed' refurb-extension recently turned this former guest house into a smart family-run boutique hotel.

What are the rooms like? Ours was in the new part of the hotel and furnished with woven banana-leaf furniture from Java, natural finishes, a huge mirror and a tiny balcony with side-on views of the estuary.

The bed test: We slept on a luxury king-size with Egyptian cotton sheets and an enormous banana-leaf headboard, under a white goose-down duvet and a cashmere pashmina. Other rooms (there are 12 of them) have wrought iron, French-polished boat beds or four-posters.

The bathroom: Posh stainless steel and porcelain plumbing, a walk-in glass power shower (most rooms have a free-standing bath, too) and Molton Brown toiletry dispensers.

The restaurant: More woven furniture and neutral colours in a long sunny space opening on to a waterside sun terrace. The menu is a delicious blend of seafood, local produce and Mediterranean flavours.

What is there within walking distance? The foot-passenger ferry service to Polruan on the other side of the estuary, harbour walks and footpaths through National Trust coastland, shops, pubs and restaurant, and the pay-and-display car park where you will need to leave the car.
 

Why it’s special? A wooden dining terrace stretches out into the Fowey estuary. Jane and Roy Carson, the owners, finished the refurbishment last November.

Hitting the sack: Twelve bedrooms, seven of which have estuary views and balconies. Ours had banana-leaf furniture from Java, golden silk curtains and a bucket filled with seaside rock and fish-shaped chocolate. Sampling the fare Food in the “Q” Restaurant has Spanish, Italian and North African influences. Dishes include rare grilled tuna with seared lemon or local scallops with cherry tomato and salsa salad. The service is faultless. Access all areas Wheelchair access only to the restaurant.

Added attractions: Get the Sunday papers and grab a seat in the deep sofas in the relaxed, muted-beige sitting room.

What we think: The perfect tonic for stressed-out city types.
 

Finally, the question I’ve been dreading: ‘Are you Paddy Burt?’

The Old Quay House in Fowey has recently had a massive makeover from shabby to ultra modern. “We purchased the property in April 2002 in order to make a new life ourselves, having lived and worked in London for more than 21 years,” say Jane and Roy Carson in their Dear Guest letter.

As Fowey’s narrow streets aren’t designed for traffic, my husband whizzes off to a car park on the other side of town while I chat to Roy in his très modern office. He’s looking rather pleased with life as a hotelier. “What were you doing before” I ask. I was an IT consultant…”

He takes me to our room via immaculately carpeted stairs and corridors. There’s nothing so old-fashioned as keys here, dear me no; instead there are little cards you push right in, then turn the handle. Having got inside, he pops the card into a slot just by the door. “Unless you do that, the lights don’t work,” he warns, leaving me wondering what happens if the door shuts and one can’t see where the slot is.

The room is small but perfectly formed. A small balcony offers a view of the dark estuary below. Magic. Husband arrives. At last. “Get changed quick, we don’t want to miss a thing,” I urge. Going down the small flight of stairs to the loo and shower room, he examines the bottles on the shower cubicle shelf – liquid soap, liquid shampoo, hair conditioner. “Don’t forget your specs or you might up end up washing with conditioner,” he warns.

All togged up (jeans with a dressy top are just right), we order drinks in a sitting area with two brown leather sofas facing each other and a nudge nudge nude painting above the fireplace. The restaurant is large, fabulous and very modern, with dark brown tables, black napkins and folded white clothes forming a strip down the middle. It overlooks the harbour and even better, there are lots of people. The word has been spread. By IT perhaps?

The owners are having dinner friends in the corner. My vegetable soup’s lukewarm. I could have asked for it to be heated up, but it’s not that bad. My John Dory main course, accompanied by olive mash potato, is perfect. My husband has chosen something much more interesting, a North African tagine: “The couscous is mint flavoured,” he says. “Unusual and very nice.” The service, though, doesn’t seem quite professional enough for a restaurant serving food as good as this.

No complaints about breakfast. In a cupboard above an ancient chest of drawers is an array of cut-up fruit, freshly squeezed orange juice, croissants and cereals. Returning for a can’t-resist second helping, I meet a woman on a similar mission. “ Hello, I’m the owner, are you a journalist?” “Why do you ask?” “Someone saw you writing notes. Are you Paddy Burt?” I don’t like lying but can see there will be an inquisition if I don’t. “I’m making notes for a book I’m doing,” I reply – not a complete untruth because I am writing a book. “What is it about?” she asks next. Oh really. Telling her briefly, I flee.