That innocuous looking thing at the top of page that gives my email address has had some interesting effects. Over the last year I've had emails from people who tell me about restaurants that they've loved and restaurants that they've hated. I've been encouraged to visit new restaurants by PR companies, asked for recipes, asked for suggestions about where to hold an office party - even asked where edible snails might be sold. I've been berated and praised, brought to book on the use of split infinitives and have discussed coffee and the perfect espresso at length. Recently I've had quite a number of emails from people working in the restaurant business in response to a recent article where I said I didn't like tipping on top of a service charge. They pointed out that many restaurants don't ever pass the service charge on to their staff, and that consequently they rely on the tips that come over and above it. I'm not sure of the legality of a restaurant keeping the service charge - on the face of it would appear to be very illegal - but even so, as a customer that's not my problem. I'm just not going to tip twice.

Some months ago I got an email from a young law student with a passion for good food. In a footnote she told me that although going to restaurants was one her favourite occupations, being an impecunious student made it a rarer event than she'd like. Well, I had to, didn't I? After exchanging a few emails we found a night that suited us both, and so it was that I found myself in the Horseshoe looking out for someone I'd never met before. It had all the hallmarks of a blind date with all the concomitant angst. But all was well, Niamh Fahey was charming, elegant and alarmingly bright - quite happy swapping Latin tags and recondite etymologies. Not knowing my dinner companion beforehand made the choice of restaurant a little harder than usual, but I reasoned it like this: best go somewhere young and fashionable so at least one of us would be at our ease. I've tried to get into Mao on a couple of occasions before and failed, so now seemed the ideal opportunity to try again.

Mao has a menu of Oriental food - that is there's an eclectic mix of Chinese, Thai and other cuisines at very affordable prices. The wine list has one of lowest mark-ups I've seen in a Dublin restaurant, so it's possible to have a three course meal for two with a bottle of wine and still have change from £50. These days that's pretty remarkable. In a world of high rates, rents and labour costs, low prices like these only work with a high turnover of customers, which Mao achieves partly by seating everyone very close together. As it happens, the couple at the table right next to us - and believe me, I mean right next to us - would clearly have liked to have had more privacy for what was obviously a new relationship at the height of its passion. However, the tables actually abut, so privacy is not a possibility. This is obviously not a problem for everyone, and what you do get in Mao is a smartly decorated room with lots of wood and steel, and the Andy Warhol-style icon of the Chairman surveying all before him with that smug look that only an absolute dictator can achieve to perfection.

As you might expect, the staff are young, smart and brisk and we were well served, even down to the helpful suggestions as to how the individual dishes might be approached for maximum enjoyment. From the wine list I chose a bottle of a German Riesling called Kendermann which unusually arrived in a clear Bordelaise bottle, rather than the traditional long, thin, brown German one. I wondered briefly if this was part of a new marketing stratagem to relaunch German wines after many years of a declining market. It's the first time in years that I've ordered a German wine at dinner and in truth, I found it perfectly pleasant.

Niamh chose chilli squid to start, followed by fish of the day, which was haddock. I started with the prawn spring rolls and followed with Malaysian spiced chicken, so between us we covered several of the cuisines on offer. Niamh was a little apprehensive about the three chilli symbol next to the squid on the menu, but the waiter assured her that it was more spicy than palate-igniting hot. We swapped tastes of our starters and agreed that the squid deserves its reputation as one of Mao's star dishes - hot and spicy, but not so much as to put off novice chilli eaters. My spring rolls came with a couple of dips and were good, if just a little oily.

Our main courses came and were nicely presented and generous. I've probably eaten better chicken dishes than my Malaysian chicken, but you can't lose sight of the fact that a main course in Mao goes from £6 upwards, the cost of a starter just about anywhere else. What you get is competent, plentiful and very good value. In fact, it occurs to me now, that if you were to drink one of their Oriental beers instead of wine, you could feed yourself even more economically than we did. While we ate we talked about the law, and hopefully Niamh will enlighten me soon as to some of the nicer points of law as applied to restaurant service charges. I asked her if she was enjoying her meal and she replied 'nothing too much is the keynote to perfection', which speaks volumes for a legal training.

For dessert she chose the cherry cheesecake, which I also tasted and enjoyed. We followed with an ordinary coffee for Niamh and a double espresso for me. For years I've been asking 'Why can't there be a reasonably priced restaurant in Dublin?' and Mao is my answer. There can be, and there is. It's a place for a quick meal rather than a long, lingering one and it's not ideal for couples looking for romantic tete-a-tetes. But if you were to find yourself in a large group, you wanted to eat well and be in the range of everyone's pocket, then Mao would be a good choice. Our bill, including the wine at £12.95, came to £44.30, onto which no service charge had been added. I was more than happy to add a fiver to it and happy, too, that the choice had been left to me.