It was one of the brightest, clearest November days that I can remember. The sky was an uninterrupted blue; a cold, crisp wind blew dry brown leaves high into the sky. I was walking through gorse and dead bracken under the brow of Giltspur in a vain attempt at finding a pheasant for the pot. Instead I found myself enjoying a stunning view right across Dublin to the Howth peninsula and beyond. Smoke was coming almost horizontally out of the twin stacks at Pigeon House; white breakers, whipped up by the wind, filled the Bay. I consoled myself over the lack of pheasants by admiring what was before me.

My eye fell on Dalkey Island and then onto the imposing rear facade of Sorrento Terrace, blindingly bright in the sunlight. Later in the evening it was here that I'd be going to meet my guest, Brenda Rawn. She wanted to go somewhere local and thankfully there is no shortage of restaurants in the Dalkey area. The only problem was finding one that I hadn't already reviewed. Eventually we settled on 'Ragazzi', which I'd never been to and which Brenda liked. I have an uncle who once said to me 'You should never spoil a good story with truth', but I'll be a bit of a iconoclast and do just that in a minute. People tell me things about restaurants all the time and I'd collected a lot of stories about 'Ragazzi'. The name means 'boys' in Italian, which seemed to fit with what I'd heard. The gist of several tales came to this: it's staffed with young and attractive Sicilian waiters who, rather gallantly, take ladies' orders while kneeling before them. The other thing I'd heard was that the restaurant tended to be filled with ladies who enjoyed the flattery of this kind of attention. I found this all very easy to imagine and was a little unsure if this was a place I'd take a lady friend - after all, with all that talent to look at, would she pay any attention to me?

Anyway, I braced myself for this anticipated assault on my ego by putting on a good suit. I reasoned that even if I didn't have youth on my side, at least I'd be well-dressed. After a quick glass of wine at Brenda's she kindly offered to act as chauffeuse and moments later we outside Ragazzi. Inside I found a smallish room with one very large table of people dominating it. As we walked by to our corner table I could hear the conversation taking place in Italian. A Good Sign, I thought. Other tables seemed to be composed of both sexes as well, and I began to wonder about the veracity of the stories I'd heard. We sat and took in the surroundings. A very Pompeian feel here. A russet-ochre paint effect on the walls, framed prints of some of Pompeii's more famous murals, and in the alcove beside our table a bust of the Emperor Hadrian as a young man, atop a small pillar. I noticed that the pillar was surrounded with bricks which had the words 'Dolphin's Barn' on them. Was there a connection with Pompeii here? All I could think of was that they were fire bricks and a little singed looking. Echoes of Vesuvian eruptions, perhaps.

The wine list is dominated by Italian wines, nearly all priced at under £20 and there's a modest mark-up. Brenda likes a red wine, so I ordered a bottle of Ciro, a big, rich Sicilian red from the Duca di Sanfelice. It had a wonderful bouquet but a sharp and bitter aftertaste. I asked the waiter to try it himself, and he went over to a man I assumed was the owner. He came over and told me it was supposed to taste like that. I demurred. He told me he wouldn't charge me, but there was no point in opening another bottle because they'd all taste like that. I suggested a possible secondary fermentation, and he said it would improve dramatically if left to breath. I held off from ordering the good Dr. Lungarotti's Rubesco and asked for a bottle of mineral water to keep us going.

The menu is well put together, you can simply have one of many pizzas on offer, just a pasta, or a three course meal. I would have liked to have tried a pizza, but you can't really incorporate one into a meal - it's a meal in itself. While we were looking at our menus I couldn't help overhearing the conversation at the next table to us. Two young women were dining together and one of the waiters knelt beside the table and smiled most engagingly. 'Are you two ladies married?' he asked. Now I'll spoil the story with truth. That was the only occasion that I saw this happen. Maybe the right ladies just weren't there on the night.

Brenda started with a penne all' arabbiata, a spicy tomato sauce that turned out to be just that. I had the squid rings in batter which were good, and I tasted Brenda's penne which had a generous dusting of chilli - very nice. While we were eating the starters I asked for a bottle of Rubesco, the Ciro still not being to my taste, although I'll admit it had improved a bit. The Rubesco went just fine with our main courses; for Brenda the Saltimbocca alla Romana, and medallions of beef fillet with porcini mushrooms for me.

Both of these were very tasty and well made, but it occurred to me how different the Italian and French schools of cuisine are when it comes to presentation. True to the Italian tradition there was little effort to make the food a pretty picture on the plate. A few years ago I would have had nothing to say about this, but I'm coming slowly to the conclusion that presentation is important, as long as it's not instead of good food, but rather as a compliment to it. And another thought: the service was excellent and friendly in the way that continental service so often is. In Italy, Spain and France being a waiter is not a menial job, it's a serious calling which can be performed well, just like any art. It's the ability to combine service without servility that makes it work so well and which leaves the customer with a sense of being professionally served.

Loud 'Gitanos Reyes' accompanied most of meal, which meant I shouted a bit, but I liked Ragazzi for its flair and bustle. The bill came to £68.40 which included two desserts, two coffees and two grappas as digestives - and I wasn't charged for the Ciro.