I've gone on a bit lately about leaving things to chance and the vagaries of fortune, but occasionally it really does work and the surprise is all the more pleasant for it. I try never to book into a restaurant because I like to remain as anonymous as possible, and giving a false name seems a little dishonest. Since it's my habit to go midweek, getting a table rarely presents a problem. Anyway, I wanted to go to the Ranelagh area as there's a plethora of restaurants there and I wanted to try somewhere outside the city centre.

My guest for the evening was Dillie Keane; writer, actress and star of Fascinating Aida. When I asked her what kind of restaurant she'd like to go to, she unhesitatingly replied 'Indian.' If that's not serendipity it's something close, because The Punjab Balti is in Ranelagh, so we both got what we wanted. Dillie is a very good cook - I know because I've been on the receiving end of her cookery, and not only is Indian cuisine her favourite, she knows a lot about it - which I knew would make my job a whole lot easier.

Dillie, my wife Susie and myself arrived at the Punjab Balti suffering from weltschmertz. Dillie had just flown into Dublin after a five-week stint of cabaret in New York and was a little jet-lagged. My wife and I had just had a weekend of very determined partying, which takes more of a toll on me these days than it did twenty years ago. It's at moments like this that you remember that the word 'restaurant' comes from the French word to restore - that is restore the weary, hungry diner to a sense of well-being and contentment. There's a welcoming atmosphere in this restaurant and I had the immediate sensation that it just might have the restorative powers to bring us back to verve and vitality.

The first thing you have to know about this restaurant is that it's a bring-your-own-drink place. There's a modest charge for corkage, and there's Redmond's off-license a couple of doors down where you can get your choice of wine or beer while getting a preview of the people with whom you'll shortly be dining. After we'd found a cosy table for three I was despatched to buy beer in the off-license which, joy of joys, sells it chilled. I went back to the restaurant with a spring in my step.

Back inside we studied a long and varied menu, Dillie describing the dishes that she knew well and making suggestions as to how we might get a representative sample of the menu. We were being looked after by a young student who was probably the most charming waitress I've met in years. Before you accuse me of being a lecherous old fart, I should tell you that this opinion was shared by both Dillie and Susie. Her easy charm was a delight, and made me wonder if restaurant owners are as aware as they should be as to what an invaluable asset a waiter or waitress is who has the knack of making people feel completely at ease. In my view it's every bit as important as having good food and comfortable surroundings.

The menu is divided into Punjab balti dishes, tandoori dishes, chicken, beef and lamb. After what seemed an interminable discussion eventually the choices came to this: Punjab Fish, Onion Baji and Lasooni Tikka for starters, Prawn Balti, Lamb Rogan Josh and Chicken Jalfrezi for main courses. We also ordered side dishes of Dal Tarka and Keema Nan, all of which, Dillie assured me, represented a good selection across the menu.

With the starters in front of us and the chilled beer slipping down nicely I found time to look around me. It's a simply decorated dining room with some ornate copper-work lights on the wall as well as some small rugs which I assumed to be prayer rugs. I noticed that a Sikh was dining, which I felt had to be a good sign. There is a fair amount of movement in and out as well, because they do take-aways. It took me a while to realise that the motorcyclist who kept going in and out wasn't in fact a glutton who couldn't stop eating, but rather the delivery service in action.

Susie's Punjab fish, which was marinated in spices and fried in batter had a great flavour but had a rather thick batter that had absorbed too much cooking oil. Dillie's Lasooni Tikka, which is grilled pieces of chicken marinated in yoghurt and spices was really good - moist and succulent, which grilled chicken breast often isn't. My onion Bajis, fried cakes of grated onion, were well-spiced and flavoured. The main courses were similarly successful - the prawns which were cooked in a deep iron cooking pot were firm, fresh and very hot; the chicken had an extraordinary explosion of tastes. Perhaps my only quibble would be that my lamb, although delicious, was a little tough. I was especially taken with the rice, saffron yellow and perfectly cooked.

Our two side dishes were interesting. The Dal was a dish of lentils cooked with herbs and garlic which was a real treat. It was also a surprise for me, since I've never had much of a liking for lentils. The Keema Nan bread was generously stuffed with minced lamb, its only problem being that it was so well filled that it was hard to eat without dropping bits all over the place.

Both the ladies ordered salted Lassi, which is a whisked yoghurt drink and which no amount of persuasion would get me to try - I'm prepared to leave some acquired tastes unacquired. With our main courses finished we had once again managed to eat ourselves to a virtual standstill. Just room for one dessert between the three of us; sliced mangoes. I'm prepared to be corrected on this, but I suspect that desserts aren't the strong suit of Indian cooking. Even on menus they tend to be few and a tad unimaginative. While the adventurous ladies drank tea and spices boiled in milk, my eye was caught by an Italian espresso machine. I had to try one. It was good, but I've yet to find my coffee nirvana. The bill for the three of us came to £71.25.

We walked contentedly back to the car re-living the parts of the meal that had made an impression. I asked Dillie to sum up the meal as succinctly as she could. Her verdict? 'The best Indian food I've eaten in Ireland.'