A thoughtfulness over the finer details makes this 17th-century hotel in Ashford a place of real comfort and quality.

A luxurious mini-break is one of life’s great treasures: a chance to escape hectic routines and simplify our existence for a day or two. It’s fitting, then, that one of the hotel rooms at Boys Hall is named Sovereign, after a previous owner miraculously unearthed a hoard of gold coins here, hidden in a broken flower pot. As my husband and I flop on to our super king bed, it feels like we’re the ones who have struck gold. Our resplendent bedroom was hidden up a private staircase at the top of the house. Heavy wooden beams lie like friendly roommates across the ceiling, holding secrets from centuries of conversations they’ve eavesdropped on since the house was built in 1616. After a spontaneous attempt at croquet on the lawn, we join the busy restaurant for dinner. It buzzes with more locals than hotel guests and feels like a welcome addition to Ashford’s food scene. Tucked behind the restaurant is a charming micro-pub, where hotel guests and the community indulge in a nightcap or put the world to rights after dinner.

Boys Hall’s food ethos is rooted in locally sourced, seasonal produce from Kentish butchers, farmers and boats. Our starters have a Middle Eastern influence, with pulled Romney Salt Marsh lamb playfully served on a toasted crumpet, topped with pickled shallots and spiced baba ganoush; it would have made an excellent meal in itself, much like the smoked haddock flatbread crowned with a poached welcomes egg and griddled baby gem. Head chef Shane Pearson is rightfully proud to fire up the asado-style grill in the kitchen (affectionately called Jolene). The whole sea bream we order is perfectly crisp with tender flesh, and the charred rare-breed T-bone pork chop is offset by a rich date jus (which we subsequently pour over everything, including the decadent beef dripping Ratte potatoes). Innovative ingredients including black garlic, enoki and tonka bean gently tempt us into more unfamiliar flavour territories. Likewise on the wine list, we sample Croatian riesling for the first time, which sits in great company alongside classic European and English bottles.

The next morning, I consider going for a run before breakfast, but wallowing in the roll-top bath with a cup of tea seems like a better idea. Steam escapes through a stone mullioned window, evaporating over the rose garden below. I wash away the effects of last night’s wine list with a liberal shake of Pelegrims’ vineyard bath salts, aptly made from grape extracts sourced at Westwell winery nearby. For breakfast, honey made in Boys Hall’s garden is drizzled over my coconut toasted granola and thick Greek yogurt, and I know the fry-up is good when my husband uncharacteristically refuses to share it. I’m permitted a taste of the treacly oven-baked beans only after he discovers more hiding under the thick-cut bacon and slice of black pudding. Fry-ups often feel indulgent because of sheer quantity, but here it is the quality and thoughtfulness which makes it one of the best hotel breakfasts I’ve seen (and so wish I’d eaten!). Owners Brad and Kristie Lomas have infused this care and attention across the whole hotel. Historically, Boys Hall has been a family home longer than it’s been a hotel, so it’s fitting that Kristie grew up a few miles away. Her father (a rather handy master craftsman) helped build the restaurant barn, her mother is often found digging in the garden, and her sister welcomes guests on reception. Operations director Brad runs a tight front of house, and Kristie has scoured auctions and antique fairs to design the interiors. Natural fabrics and sumptuous textures bring the outside in, and I find myself digging around the soft furnishings for pour over everything, including the labels so I could recreate the look at home (alas, they’re all handmade). We know we’ve found a gem when we seek refuge in an impromptu lunch rather than the harsh reality of check-out. If they’d had the room (and we’d had the babysitter) we probably would have stayed another night, too.