Hard to believe it's six months since I started writing this column - but since it is, half a year seems to be a good time for a little reflection. I can remember when Dublin had very few restaurants - mostly bad - frequented by people who went to restaurants very occasionally and whose idea of constructive criticism was to complain if their steak wasn't cooked to a frazzle. Wine, for some bizarre reason, came in two colours: Barsac and Medoc. I ask you, when did you last see a Barsac? Nowadays it's only on exclusive pudding wine lists, but back then you could drink it with your mixed grill and chips.

Which means that doing this job is no longer the poisoned chalice it once was. Whereas once upon a time finding a restaurant that served passably good food was a major discovery, now you take it for granted that the food will at the very least be edible. The last twenty years has seen a major revolution in the Irish catering industry. In truth I think that a lot of this is due to one basic ingredient: the Ballymaloe Cookery School. There's hardly a cook in the trendy restaurants of Dublin who didn't begin their training there. Of all the things you can thank Myrtle Allen for, you can thank her especially for the demise of the flour-based sauces that once smothered everything we ate.

In the last six months I've found no bad meals, just occasionally bad value and bad service. This is not say that all the meals have been good; many have been simply mediocre or unmemorable. I have no doubt that a bad meal awaits me somewhere, but for the moment happily I've avoided it. There is something that niggles me though, and it's bad service. Because I once had a restaurant I know that making everything come together as it should every evening is a bit like juggling twenty balls in the air simultaneously. The number of variables that comprise the set of things that can go wrong is big.

They are not all in the direct control of the restaurateur: some things are taken on trust. For example a restaurateur selects a butcher who is reliable and buys his meat accordingly. But you can't taste every piece of meat that you cook. You have faith in the butcher. Then one day he sends you a fresh and tough fillet of beef and the first you know about it is when the complaints arrive. But here's what annoys: there are things that are in the control of the management, and one of them is how many people you have serving at the tables. There is no excuse for having too few staff to serve the customers properly. When were you last offered a discount because the service wasn't up to standard? Service accounts for a part of the money that you pay - and if you pay for it, you should get it.

There are other things that annoy me: wine lists that are marked up at well over 100pc for no discernible reason; dishes on menus with classical names that turn out to be something entirely different; not being met and greeted on arrival; cutlery, crockery and glassware that aren't spotless; uncomfortable chairs and small tables; tables that are set far too close together; these are some of the most irritating. But then there are the things that please; not least finally finding a good espresso. There's something civilised about a really good coffee to end a meal and I found the best so far in Bruno's of Temple Bar last week - more of that another time.

But enough; on to restaurants in particular. I was home alone on a Friday night wondering whether to go to bed early or watch telly and then go to bed early, when the phone rang. My old friend John Hurt and his partner Sarah Owens were driving through Wicklow and were wondering if I would join them for a meal in Mitchells of Laragh. Now this is the nearest restaurant to where I live, and there has been many a night that I've been tempted to go there rather than drive for miles, but for fear of being accused of laziness I've been putting it off. So here I had a perfect opportunity: good company, a short drive and better still, I was a guest.

Mitchells restaurant is in an attractive cut stone building that used to be the Cycling Club. It overlooks the river that comes down from the Glenmacnass valley to meet the Avonmore in Laragh. From the front of the building there are fine views of Ballard and Glendalough and there's a sightline down the Avonmore Valley. Inside there's a warm atmosphere and plain pine tables surrounded by plain Windsor chairs. An open fire blazed in the hearth. It has a homely feel and the impression is reinforced by a well-priced set menu, which at £18.50 is very much towards the lower midrange for dinner. The wine list too is fairly priced; it covers most countries, although not in any depth. We chose a Cote de Beaune Villages at £17.50.

The menu is quite long, with a lot of choices for starters, main courses and desserts. We were adventurous enough, choosing different things all the way. To start John chose the smoked trout, Sarah the melon and port, and I had the warm bacon and duck liver salad. For main courses Sarah picked the rack of lamb while John and I decided to eat some of the major internal organs - he chose the lamb's liver, and I had the kidneys.

There was a tray of breads on the table, obviously home made, and very good. We picked away while we awaited the starters. The three of us are smokers and it became apparent that in a small, low-ceilinged room with tables fairly close together, non-smokers were aware of our habit. Passing very briefly through a moment of social conscience, the nicotine addiction won out.

Apart from my starter, which had but one very overcooked duck liver in it, the food was good for the price. The slightly erratic service we put down to a young man's first night on the job and it didn't really affect our enjoyment of the meal. If you were taking a drive through the hills and wanted a meal a cut above the average at reasonable money, then Mitchells will fit the bill.