Food guides, like restaurant reviews, are very much a matter of taste. Essentially they come in two kinds; the ones where the restaurants pay to be listed and the ones where they don't. If you're like me you'll dismiss the first kind at once, since you're unlikely to learn anything from them that isn't pure publicity. But even the second kind comes in many guises and it's important to know what the criteria are for the judgements. My own favourite vade mecum is the Michelin Guide, for the simple reason that all its inspectors have worked in the restaurant business, and therefore know it from both sides of the kitchen door. And there's something else that I like about it; it's coherent in its choices. Use it for a bit and you'll know what to expect from a listed restaurant.

The Michelin Guide gives stars to the restaurants that it feels excels in their category; awarding one, two or three. Ireland has no three-star restaurants and only one two-star - Patrick Guilbaud's - but one-star restaurants are becoming slightly commoner than once they were. Go to a one-star Michelin and you know several things before you enter the door: it will have a well-above average standard of comfort, service and food. It will also be expensive. The Commons fits this description perfectly and it has had a Michelin star until recently, although it is currently working hard to regain it.

It's rare that humble hacks get to meet their masters in the world of newspapers, so I was doubly graced when not only did I have lunch with John Meagher, deputy chairman of Independent Newspapers, but better still, I was his guest. The most palpable benefit of this was that I got to go to The Commons, a restaurant that I've been intending to visit, but had been saving up for. With a set dinner menu that costs £45, it's as well that we were there for lunch, where the table d'hote is £22.

The Commons is in Newman House, one of the grander houses on the South side of Stephen's Green. It's down a few steps, so it's a little below ground level at the front where there's a desk to check you in. I arrived a little early and was shown to the waiting area which is alongside the dining room and has a door leading to the garden. While I was waiting I drank a glass of good white house wine, Chilean I suspect, and looked through the wine list. As I did I began to be very grateful that it wouldn't be me picking up the tab. This is a wine list for the deep of pocket, running right the way up to £1500. It also has one of the highest markups I've seen in a restaurant, the wholesale cost some wines seem to be multiplied by four.

The dining room is spacious and runs from the windows looking onto the Green right through to the garden at the back. The tables are well-spaced and are dressed with thick linen, heavy cutlery and attractive crockery. It has a bright and airy feel - the large Georgian pane windows fill the room with light. Comfortable chairs complete the settings and a fine collection of Joycean art adorns the walls.

While we were ordering from the set lunch menu, we were given the now obligatory selection of home-made breads from which I chose a walnut bread and a plain roll, shaped like a mini baguette. John selected a good Bordeaux Superieur from the list and, with the important choice of wine made, we were able to take our time over the menu. Eventually it went like this: a vegetable bouillon and salmon for John, a smoked duck salad and a canon of lamb for me.

The vegetable soup was delicious, and even though soup is not one of my favourite foods I had to have a second taste. My duck was one of those artisitic creations on a plate, and had the added advantage of being good to eat. Apart from beautifully arrayed thin slivers of breast it also came with gesiers, which I suspect are better off not translated. It's an extremely tasty part of the duck, but the squeamish may be put off by its English name. Some foods are best eaten in ignorance of their origins.

Before our main courses arrived we were given a little sorbet. It was an apple one and unusually it was served in a soup bowl surrounded by a freshly-made green apple juice. It left our palates refreshed and ready for the main courses. John's salmon was perfectly cooked and exactly to his liking, my lamb was excellent and deserves a full description. The canon of lamb turned out to the loin coated with a paste made from the gigot and the whole then wrapped in the skin and roasted. It was served in thin slices and had me making little groans of pleasure as I ate it. With some effort of will I found the appetite to attack the desserts and we chose the creme brulee and a mille feuille. John also had the excellent idea of consulting the wine list once more and chose a half bottle of dessert wine; a Loupiac 1995 which was full and lush and complimented the richness of the desserts exactly. While we were finishing them the chef came out from his kitchen and thus we met Sebastian Masi, a young man whose curriculum vitae is varied and impressive. I couldn't help noticing his surname, and yes, he's of Italian stock, but some generations ago his ancestors emigrated to France. I asked him if he was connected to the wine makers of the same name and he confirmed that he was, but added ruefully that he and his family no longer had a stake in the business.

A good, strong espresso finished my meal and left me feeling contented and well fed. I hadn't seen John for a long time and what with all the chat the time had flown by, so much so that with a shock I realised that my meter time had expired by over an hour. Confirmed culchies like me don't have an inbuilt clock and this particular deficiency has its own penalties - in this case a clamped wheel, which slightly took the edge off the aforementioned sense of well being.