The team

Three of us, and a cellar.

Ffion came home to the Vale after twelve years at Borough Market and two winters making Comté in the Jura; Rhys came for a summer from a restaurant floor in Bristol and stayed; Gwen does Saturdays and the hampers at Christmas. Between us we have tasted everything on the counter more times than is sensible.

The people

Ffion Hughes, a woman in her early fifties with silver-streaked dark hair in a low bun and reading glasses pushed up, in a linen shirt and olive apron, holding a wedge of cheese behind a marble counter

Ffion Hughes

Owner and cheesemonger. The counter, the makers, the cellar, the evenings

Twelve years at a cheesemonger in Borough Market and two on a farm in the Jura making Comté before she came home to the Vale and took the lease on the old saddler's in 2012. Chooses every cheese from about forty makers, visits most of them, runs the cellar, and leads the tasting evenings. Will tell you a cheese is past its best and take it off the counter.

Rhys Morgan, a man in his late twenties with a neat beard, in a striped shirt with rolled sleeves and a dark apron, holding a bottle of red wine by a wall of wine shelves

Rhys Morgan

Wine and the deli counter. The shelf, the slicer, the lunch

Trained as a sommelier in Cardiff and worked the floor of a restaurant in Bristol before he came to the Larder in 2019 for the summer and stayed. Chooses the sixty bottles, runs the red slicer and the charcuterie, makes most of the sandwiches, and pairs the wines for the evenings. Will sell you the cheaper bottle if it is the better match.

  • 24cheeses on the counter, cut to order from the wheel
  • 60bottles on the wine shelf, chosen to go with them
  • 14years on the High Street, in the old saddler's
  • 4.9average rating

The rest of us, and the paperwork

Gwen, the cellar, and four things worth knowing.

Gwen Lewis, Saturdays

At the sixth form in Cowbridge during the week and on the counter every Saturday since she was sixteen. Packs most of the hampers in December, writes the cards in the best handwriting in the shop, and has opinions about Époisses.

The cellar

A stone cellar under the shop at twelve degrees, where the wheels and truckles wait until they are ready. It is the reason we took the lease, and it is why a Caerphilly can go up to the counter at four months instead of six weeks.

The paperwork

Food hygiene rated five; a premises licence for the wine and the evenings; members of the Guild of Fine Food and the Specialist Cheesemakers' Association. Every cheese traceable to its maker and its batch.

Where the money goes

Cheese from small farms costs more because it is made by hand in small batches, and we pay the makers' prices without haggling. The lunch counter and the evenings keep the shop open in the quiet months; the hampers pay for Christmas.

An ink-grey painted delicatessen front on a Georgian stone high street with a bay window of cheeses, hampers and bottles, a bench and a hanging basket

Number fifty-eight

A saddler's for a hundred years, then cheese.

Fifty-eight High Street was a saddler's from the 1880s to the 1980s, then a building society, then empty for two years when Ffion found it in 2011 and went down the cellar stairs. The saddler's hooks are still in the beams over the counter, the bay window is original, and the bench outside was the saddler's own. The ink-grey front was chosen to make the cheese in the window look like cheese.

Finding the shop

A hamper built by you, packed on the day.

Choose the basket and what goes in it from the shelves; the total runs as you go and tells you how far you are from free delivery in the Vale over £75. Packed with wood wool and a handwritten card; posted anywhere in Britain for £9.95.