I've just finished reading a book about bio-diversity and it got me thinking about how dull the world would be if homogeneity reigned. It's happening just about everywhere you look, from hotel rooms that are indistinguishable no matter in what country you find yourself, to fast-food outlets, to menus in fashionable restaurants where the same dishes occur with monotonous regularity. Maybe gastrodiversity should be equally promoted and protected.

It was a visit to Killakee Restaurant that prompted these musings. On a clear, bright moonlit night my wife and I set out across the Sally Gap for a meal there. There's a turn in the road just near the Hellfire Club where suddenly the lights of Dublin twinkle below you, stretching to the horizon. It's an impressive sight. If it wasn't for a stand of forestry you'd get a similar view from the restaurant. It's in an attractive old stone building dating from the early 18th century and was once a dower house for the Massey family. Inside the front door there's a cosy lounge with a stove and sofas that have possibly the most ghastly loose covers that I've ever seen. However, we just passed through, and were shown directly to our table in the dining room, which is up a flight of steps.

The dining room itself is quite large, but is visually broken up by wooden dividers, making small, discrete groups of tables. The decor I can best describe as seventies bucolic. There are large dark beams across the ceiling hung with old plates, dark wooden tables and chairs, plenty of bric-a-brac around the walls, window sills and alcoves and tiny red curtains atop each divider. The tables were laid with exactly the same place mats as I used to have in my restaurant and exactly the same King's pattern cutlery. It was mid-week and we were offered a choice of tables, selecting a table that was set for four in a corner of the room.

You may have noticed several references to times past in this review and that's no accident. There's a feel of a bygone era to this place - it's partly the decor, partly the wine-list and partly the menu. I have no problem with this: apart from being a recent convert to gastro-diversity I have a fondness for cuisine grand-mere. And that's the point I was making earlier, it's nice to have a variety of choices when it comes to selecting a place to eat. Killakee House is not a place for the young and trendy and I doubt very much that it would want to be. It offers a rather comforting sort of old-fashioned dining in a room that I'd guess hasn't changed much for a long time.

I began by looking down the wine list. There's about seventy wines listed, about a third are French and the rest are from all the other major wine-producing countries. The five house wines are all £11.95, but the Burgundies and Bordeaus are pitched between £20-30. The bargain of the list appeared to be the Angas Brut Australian sparkler at £17, so we got the last bottle of that. I don't know when I last saw it listed, but if you're over forty you'll remember when even the shortest list had Mateus Rose. I suppose I thought it had simply disappeared, but it was here as the sole representative of Portugal. To complete our drinks order I asked for a large bottle of mineral water, but we took our waiter's suggestion and had a jug of their own iced spring water.

I had a few minor quibbles about the evening and I'll list them now. Firstly I would have liked to have seen the two unnecessary place settings at our table cleared away, which would have given us less clutter. Secondly I like the little ceremony of tasting a wine, and I don't like to see it poured directly without me tasting it first. Thirdly - and call me a pedant if you like - I prefer my sparkling wines in a tulip-shaped glass or a coupe, rather than in a standard Paris goblet - which is what we got. Lastly the ashtray remained unchanged throughout the meal. All little things, but with a cumulative effect.

The menu is a four page laminate, so presumably doesn't change very often. There's a set dinner of four courses whose price is dictated by the choice of main courses, which run from £18-25 and there's an a la carte. We decided that Susie would choose from the a la carte and I'd stay with the table d'hote. She was tempted by the smoked eel and chose that, while I picked the lambs' kidneys in red wine sauce. For main courses Susie stayed with fish and picked the turbot while I went for a blast from the past and chose the veal cordon bleu.

Before the starters arrived we were brought some home-made brown scones which were good, but I don't really like to see little foil-wrapped pats of butter on a dinner table, especially in the £40 a head bracket. Susie was presented with a generous portion of smoked eel, which came with a simple salad and my kidneys were presented on a large plate, diced small, and covered in a brown sauce that looked oddly unappealing but which tasted fine.

Next I got a sea-food bisque which was thick, rich and with a strong flavour of lobster. After that came the main courses which were very good. Susie was given a large turbot steak, which she told me was perfectly cooked. It was served with slivers of carrot and chunks of lobster and it looked impressive on the plate. I was similarly well-served: a large, crisp and very nicely cooked veal cordon bleu had me nearly defeated by its sheer size. The vegetables were served separately and were very plain, but my interest was focused entirely upon my veal which I thoroughly enjoyed. It was definitely a night for seeing things I hadn't seen for a long time. Just like the old days, dessert came on a trolley and from it we picked a banoffi which we shared. This is not the sort of restaurant to offer you an espresso, so there was really only one way to finish so traditional a meal - we both had perfectly delicious Irish coffees. The bill came to £78.54 which included a 10pc service charge and I was pleased to see that the credit card slip came with the total filled out, rather than with the gratuity box still open in a mute request for another tip.