Plan the Meals Before You Plan the Shop

Most self-catering kitchens fail for the same reason: people shop for a week when they are only there for four nights. Before you write a list, decide roughly what you will eat. On a four-night break, three dinners is realistic — one easy meal for arrival night, one night you cook properly, and one night out at a pub or a chip shop. Breakfasts are usually porridge, toast or eggs, and lunches tend to happen out and about, or as a picnic assembled from whatever is left in the fridge.

Write that plan down. It turns a vague wander around a supermarket into a ten-minute shop, and it stops you buying a bag of carrots that will travel home with you.

Find Out What Is Already There

Most owners leave the basics: salt, pepper, cooking oil, perhaps foil and cling film, a few teabags and a jar of coffee. Some leave rather more. It is worth a quick message to the owner, or a careful read of the listing, before you shop — there is no point buying a second bottle of olive oil. Ask specifically about a cafetière, a decent knife, a baking tray and whether there is a freezer compartment. In a small Highland cottage, the answer to that last question can change your whole menu.

The Basic Larder That Earns Its Place

You want ingredients that do several jobs, so nothing is wasted. A short list covers a surprising amount of ground:

• Fats and seasoning: a small bottle of olive oil, butter, salt, black pepper, a couple of stock cubes.
• Building blocks: onions, garlic, tinned tomatoes, tomato purée, a bag of pasta, a small bag of rice.
• Protein: eggs, milk, cheese, and bacon or sausages from a butcher if you pass one.
• Vegetables: potatoes, a couple of peppers or courgettes, and a bag of frozen peas.
• Spices: smoked paprika, dried mixed herbs and chilli flakes — small jars only.

That covers a pasta bake, a fry-up, an omelette, a curry and a soup without leaving half a cupboard behind.

Buy Local Where It Counts

Don't tie yourself in knots trying to source everything within ten miles. Do buy the things that are genuinely better nearby. If you are staying near a harbour or a fishmonger's van, buy fish and shellfish — langoustines, mussels, haddock, whatever is landed that morning. Smoked salmon from a west coast smokehouse, cheese from a dairy farm, butcher's meat, bakery bread, oatcakes and, in late summer, Scottish raspberries are all worth the detour.

Farm shops and village stores are a pleasure, but check the opening hours before you rely on them. Many rural shops close at five, shut on Sundays or take a half-day, and the nearest supermarket can be forty minutes down a single-track road. Do the main shop on the way in, then top up with local treats once you have settled.

Tea, Coffee and the Small Comforts

This is where self-catering either feels like home or feels like camping. Take more teabags than you think you need — a wet afternoon in a cottage can absorb six without anyone noticing. Bring coffee that suits the equipment you have confirmed is there, whether that is a cafetière, a filter machine or a simple jug and a bag of ground coffee. Add milk, sugar, a packet of biscuits and a bar of decent chocolate for the evening.

Beyond that, a few small things earn their space: hot chocolate for cold, damp days, a bag of salt and vinegar crisps, a lemon, and a bottle of something to open once the bags are unpacked. None of it is essential. All of it makes the first evening feel less like an administrative exercise.

What Not to Bother With

Restraint matters more than abundance on a short break. Skip the bulk packs — a four-kilogram bag of potatoes is a burden, not a bargain. Leave the fresh herbs and bagged salad unless you know you will use them within two days, as they wilt quietly in the salad drawer while you are out walking. Don't buy exotic ingredients you will use once, and don't over-invest in bread, which goes stale faster in a warm cottage than you expect.

It also pays to resist the temptation to buy a whole new set of spices. Two or three small jars will season everything on a four-night menu.

A Realistic First Night

Arrival always takes longer than planned. By the time you have found the key safe, worked out the heating and carried the bags in, nobody wants to cook a proper meal. Keep the first night deliberately simple: pasta with tinned tomatoes, garlic, chilli and grated cheese takes twenty minutes and uses only one pan. A plate of smoked salmon, cheese, oatcakes and a handful of salad leaves is even quicker and feels like a holiday rather than a compromise.

Save the real cooking for day two, once you have found the shop, learned the oven and come back hungry from a walk. And when you leave, take home anything unopened and non-perishable — or check whether the owner would like it left behind. A small, tidy kitchen at the end of a break is its own quiet pleasure.