Finding good Italian restaurants in Ireland has always been something of a Holy Grail for me. An endless Arthurian quest that somehow remains almost, but not quite fulfilled. So when I was told by my friend Kathy that the Osteria Romana in Crow Street was well worth a visit I was a little sceptical. As it happened my wife and I were on the way to a late-night party in the Clarence to celebrate Kathy's birthday, so we decided to take her advice, go to Dublin early and try the Osteria first.

Crow Street has at least three restaurants down its short length, and the Osteria is almost opposite Dish. From the outside it has all the hall-marks of an Italian trattoria and inside it's rather nicely decorated. There's eight or so tables in what is essentially a square room in one corner of which is a counter cum bar. The first thing I noticed on entering was that the dulcet tones of Roberto Murolo could be heard through the speakers. Now Murolo is the quintessential Neapolitan singer, an icon for fifty years or more and beloved of all Neapolitans. It seemed slightly at odds with the restaurant's Roman epithet. But all came clear when a young Neapolitan waiter showed us to our table at the window. We looked around at what both Susie and I agreed was a nicely decorated room. The walls are painted with a trompe l'oeil of stonework up to dado height and above that there are frames separated by paint-effect pilasters with engravings of Italian scenes framed within them. The tables are covered in a cloth with a paper cover on top of that and the chairs are small spindle-backed dark wood. The overall effect, coupled with looking out onto a cobbled street with a shiny scooter parked outside, was a nostalgic feel of Italy.

The wine list is one of the simplest I've seen, a small laminated card with nine reds on one side and five whites on the other, every one of them less than £20 except for a solitary champagne at £40, and all except for one Italian. The wine I chose was temporarily out of stock, but our waiter suggested a Sicilian wine, Bonera 1993 at £15, which wasn't actually on the list, but was, he assured me, big, full-bodied and good. I'm glad I took his advice, because it was all of those things. The menu is classical Italian: antipasti include prosciutto, bresaola, bruschetta and crostini and range in price from £2 to £8 for the full monty of antipasto misto, the Italian equivalent of a complete hors d'ouevre. There are, of course, pastas which range in price from £5-8, including classics like carbonara, arrabbiata and Amatriciana; there's a small insert of daily specials and then there's the meat dishes. Veal figures prominently in a variety of guises; Saltimbocca alla Romana, veal piccata, veal Milanese and scallopine. There are side orders such as a Caprese salad, grilled vegetables and aubergine Parmigiana all of which could be found on any menu in Rome.

To begin with we were brought two nicely made crostini which kept us going until our starters came. For starters Susie chose bresaola, thin slices of cured beef served with equally thin slices of good Parmesan and a rocket salad. This was, I think, the most expensive starter but I don't think I've seen such a generous portion on a plate before, which was great because there was plenty for me to have a taste too. My eye was caught by that Roman classic, mozzarella in carrozza which was on the daily specials menu. This translates as mozzarella in a carriage and it's fried between two pieces of bread that have been dipped in beaten egg. The outside goes crispy, while the mozzarella goes all soft and stringy inside. Lovely.

We had just remarked that it wasn't very Italian to sit at a table with no bread on it, when it arrived along with our main courses, instantly restoring our faith. Susie had chosen the veal piccata for her main course and she was presented with two slices of tender veal in a lemon sauce. It was both simple and very good, which is to my mind a good recipe. I had chosen the Italian sausages served with borlotti beans that had been cooked in a spicy tomato sauce. The sausages were good, but weren't quite the right consistency. I'm being a bit pedantic here, but Italian sausages have chopped pork inside, not finely minced pork. It makes no discernible difference to the taste, but the texture changes and you get a much more dense sausage than one made the Italian way. Despite this quibble I ate them both with pleasure. We also had simple salads which were dressed the Italian way; oil, salt and vinegar and nothing else which is just how I like it.

This was very much an Italian meal, and it was encouraging to see another table with four Italians sitting at it. Italians are probably the hardest people to please at table, so if you can make them happy you're doing well. As an aside, if you do try the Osteria you can play this game: find the loo door. From where I was sitting I could see other people having precisely the same problem finding it as I did. Once you do find its idiosyncrasy you can have fun watching other people struggle.

A look at the dessert menu confirmed what I've always thought. Puddings are not what the savoury-palated Italians do best. However our waiter cajoled us into trying one portion of tiramisu between the two of us, which he said he'd made himself. It was completely delicious and although well-sated with our meal it disappeared with a staggering alacrity. Obviously we had to finish the meal with two good espressos, and I did notice the sound of the grinder when they were being made - always a good sign. One final treat: we were presented with two Limoncellos, a lemon liqueur which is a speciality of the Amalfi peninsula which makes a wonderful digestive.

The bill came to a modest £50 in total, which meant that the good food had come to £33, which for the quality of what we'd eaten was remarkably good value. Perhaps the best compliment that I can pay the Osteria is that this is a restaurant that I'd be happy to take an Italian to.