This is not, I know, a social diary, but it was one of those nights. I had arranged to meet my companion for the evening at the launch party for the publication of Roger Casement's 'Amazon Diaries'. This glittering literary affair was held appropriately enough in the National Library and over a glass or two of wine we discussed where we might eat later. Over the years people have often said to me 'You must be very hard to please in restaurants, after all you owned one.' to which I always replied 'Not at all. Having been on both sides of the kitchen door, I'm very tolerant.'

That's pretty much true, except just like everyone else I come with a baggage of prejudices. One of these is an intense distrust of recently-opened fashionable eating houses. I'm a doubter, like St. Thomas. I'd prefer to wait a while and see how they fare through the trauma of the first year before committing myself to a meal.

My companion, like many of the young and beautiful, had an encyclopaedic knowledge of where the young, beautiful and fashionable go. She reeled off some suggestions. 'Milano's? Cafe En Seine? The Mermaid?' None of them fitted my mood on the night. 'What about Auriga?' she suggested. 'It's in Temple Bar - you can look over the Square and see everyone.' Inwardly I groaned. I had premonitions of rocket drizzled with olive oil and people toying with food while looking around to see if there is anyone to see or be seen by. 'OK,' I said bravely, 'Auriga it is.' Well, there's a limit to how many suggestions you can turn down.

Cleverly, I thought at the time, I'd leave my car in the Dawson car-park and we'd walk to Temple Bar. Dublin's rive gauche has to be one of the success stories of last decade. The place buzzes with the kind of vibrancy that reminds me of Naples - it's got that sort of energy. Auriga is upstairs and surrounded by a high glass wall. There's not much you can't see in the square below. As we walked up my immediate impression was one of a clean, bright, new, purpose-built restaurant.

As we walked into the dining-room we were met with a warm and friendly greeting; such a simple thing to do to make people feel at ease, but unfortunately not always on offer. Space, too, is often hard to come by in high rent, high rates areas like the city centre, but here the tables are well laid out and they're big enough to hold personal impedimenta as well as the food. The ceiling is high, and although the dining-room is narrow, there is a sense of space in more ways than one. There's a galactic theme here. The high ceiling is peppered with tiny lights which create a star-cluster effect. This motif is also on the menu, a plain night-sky blue with what might be a nebular spiral-arm galaxy. Auriga, the menu back tells me, is the Charioteer - a prominent constellation, which explains the cosmic theme.

The menu is short: six starters and eight main courses, but it's supplemented with a blackboard which carries the daily specials. Short as it was, there was plenty on it that I would happily have chosen. No mention of rocket drizzled with olive oil anywhere - things were looking up. The prices are reasonable; you can have a starter and a main course for under a tenner as long as you like soup and eggplant steaks. The blackboard had tiger prawns in garlic butter as a starter which we both chose, thus at a stroke depriving you of reading about two different starters. A very charming and helpful waitress suggested that I might try Lamb Shank as a main course, which was served on a bed of creamed lentils with smoked bacon. I thought that I detected a French accent, and sure enough, she was Lyonnaise. Armed with this information I was inclined to take her advice, while my companion chose from the blackboard Tagliatelle with wild mushroom sauce.

The wine list has six reds and six whites, plus two house wines at £10.95. From it I chose the Wyndham Estate Bin 555 Shiraz, a full-bodied and complex wine, long on aftertaste. Two of the whites are also offered in half bottles, so we had a half of Chablis '95 Domaine Long-Depaquit which had body enough to go with the garlicky prawns. Auriga is fully licensed, so a variety of beers are also available, both bottled and on draught.

While we sipped our wine and waited for the starters, our waitress and a waiter brought fresh, crusty baguette, kept our glasses filled and assiduously changed the ashtray whenever any ash was in it. They were attentive but never intrusive; the kind of service that makes eating out a pleasure. Later in the evening when we tried to buy cigarettes, which Auriga don't sell, our waitress immediately offered to buy them for us in the Square. Now that's service. A generous helping of tiger prawns came, surrounding a mixed salad of red and green lettuce - simple and good. Although the wooden chairs are not long on comfort, I was feeling at ease and contented by the time the main courses arrived. I had been right to trust our waitress, the Lamb Shank was tender and tasty and although lentils are not one of my favourite pulses, these were good and I ate most of them. The tagliatelle were also good, a nutty sort of taste pervading the sauce. Looking through the mushrooms that made up the sauce I found what I thought were button mushrooms, and then I found the source of the taste: the black 'Horn of Plenty', one of the more strongly flavoured wild mushrooms. A good choice by the chef. My companion asked for some Parmesan for the tagliatelle, which brings me to a small whinge. Please, Auriga, I know that Rigato is the Irish equivalent of Parmesan, but please use Parmesan. Rigato really isn't in the same league.

By this stage neither of us were very hungry, but devotion to duty had us ordering two desserts, a creme brulee and a chocolate mousse. The creme brulee was nicely made and wellpresented, but a shade too lemony for my taste and the mousse had rather too much gelatine, giving it a somewhat rubbery texture. Perhaps we should have been guided by our lack of appetite and skipped dessert.

Including a decent espresso our food bill came to exactly £35, which appeared good value to me. A gentle stroll back to the Dawson car park seemed like a pleasant way to burn off a calorie or two. We got there to find the doors closed and a group of unhappy campers clustered together sheltering from a chilly wind. It had closed at 10 o'clock. How could my dinner companion drive me home now? One of the group asked if we too had a car trapped inside. Delighted to find that we had, she explained that Park Rite were sending round a man to open it up at a £35 call-out fee. Now it could be divided it by seven. When he finally arrived and let a dozen or so disgruntled punters in, he asked 'Had we not seen the notices?' Obviously not. 'Look,' he pointed 'there's one.' So there was. With mind-numbing logic it was displayed prominently at the exit. So be warned, it added another tenner to the night's expenses.