Big Bear Burgers: The Venison with cheese and bacon.

Big Bear Burgers sets up shop at The Old Firestation in Topsham every Thursday evening, and only on Thursdays; a careful scarcity that makes the weekly ritual feel even more special. The Firestation itself, now a laid-back taproom run by Crossed Anchors Brewery, is warm, friendly and dog-approvingly relaxed. You could happily settle in here for the evening, your dog beneath the table, confident that all is right in this corner of Devon.

We went for two burgers: one Dartmoor beef, one wild-shot venison. Both were topped with cheese and bacon, an optional extra, but frankly, non-negotiable. The beef burger was juicy and reassuringly messy, while the venison had a pleasingly earthy richness. Chips came golden and crisp, fried in rapeseed oil, they were extremely good.

Service was cheerful, informed, and never intrusive. It felt effortlessly welcoming; the kind of hospitality that doesn’t need fanfare because it knows how good it is. If you’re planning a Thursday in Topsham, I’d clear your schedule. Big Bear Burgers is a treat worth waiting all week for.

Review: The Steak Burger at Homeleigh Garden Centre – A Proper Meal with a Proper View

You don’t go to a garden centre café expecting to be impressed. At best, you hope for a passable coffee, a slice of Victoria sponge that hasn’t been embalmed in cling film, and maybe a sausage roll with ambition. But Homeleigh Garden Centre, just outside Launceston, doesn’t play by those rules. It’s not just good for a garden centre. It’s good, full stop.

The café itself is bright, airy, and perched in such a way that it gives you one of the finest views in Mid Devon. Through wide windows, the countryside rolls away in green layers, all the way to the brooding edge of northern Dartmoor. It’s the kind of view that makes you sit a bit longer than you meant to and drink your tea slower than you normally would. It feels generous. Unforced.

So does the food. The steak burger (£16.95) arrives without ceremony but with quiet confidence. The patty is thick and cooked to the sort of pink that speaks of trust; trust in the meat, and in the person at the grill. It’s seared properly, no grey rubber here, and has a coarse, satisfying texture that reminds you this came from a cow, not a conveyor belt.

You can add cheese and bacon for a little extra, and you absolutely should. The bacon is the real thing—crisp-edged, properly smoky, not the flaccid sort that flops out the side like an old bookmark. The cheese, while not a sharp cheddar or anything with swagger, does its job quietly, melting just enough to hold things together without trying to upstage the meat.

The bun is solid and structured, soft without being squishy. It doesn’t disintegrate halfway through or leave you with greasy paws. It’s a small thing that makes a big difference. The whole build holds together, each bite a balanced mix of beef, salt, fat and a touch of sweetness from the salad, which someone has taken the time to do properly.

On the side: a good handful of chips—hot, golden, and fluffy inside—and a heap of homemade coleslaw that’s properly crunchy, lightly dressed, and surprisingly generous. Not a sad spoonful of damp cabbage, but a fresh, lively pile that gives the plate some colour and crunch.

This isn’t food trying to make a statement. It doesn’t need to. It’s just well made, served with care, and enjoyed in a setting that quietly outclasses many places twice the price with half the soul. The burger is better than you’ll find in plenty of so-called gastropubs, and you don’t have to pretend to like pickled radish or sit on furniture made of scaffolding to eat it.

Homeleigh’s café is the kind of place that makes you reassess your expectations. It’s unpretentious, thoughtful, and quietly excellent. Come for the plants, by all means. But stay for the view. Stay for the burger. You won’t regret it.