Whenever my wife and I drive across the continent and stop for a meal we tend to leave the choice of where we go in the lap of the gods. That's not to say we don't apply criteria to our choices, just that if the restaurant looks good from outside we'll go in. Sometimes you get a wonderful surprise and sometimes it's not so good, but at least the uncertainty adds a little spice.

When it does work and you find a little French auberge where the food is terrific and the room pleasant to sit in, then a feeling of well-being and general good fortune settles over you, much as it did the night we visited Carlow. The difference this time was that we knew exactly where we were going - The Beams in Carlow Town. It looked good from the outside and before we walked in we had a look in the window of the specialist food and wine shop next door that is part of The Beams.

We walked into a glass-ceilinged anteroom which is a bar cum waiting area and sat down. It's a comfortable room with maps of the Burgundy on the walls as well as paintings which are for sale. We were greeted by a man who I rightly suspected was part of the husband and wife team that own it. I can't remember the last time that I've been greeted by the owner of a restaurant. It used to be commonplace - it's what I used to do when I had a restaurant - but it seems to have gone the way of the National anthem in cinemas and more's the pity. He handed us our menus and wine list which were equally unusual. A first glance showed me menus in the ugliest plastic folders imaginable and a wine list with more Tippex, crossings-out and amendments than I've ever seen. I have to say that as two items that make the first impression they were eccentric to say the least. But a more careful look at the wine disclosed some rare treats from the Burgundy and Rhone at exceptionally low prices. As an example of the low mark up try this: Angas Brut, an Australian sparkler available in off-licenses at a tenner, is here at £15.50. Henri Grandin, a French sparkler that I've seen elsewhere at £20 and over is £16.

We began to talk about wine and I discovered that our host had a passion for Burgundy. 'You must try my new Aligote,' he suggested. I replied that I'd always found the Aligote grape to make thin, tart little wines better suited for kir than for drinking by themselves. He insisted and gave us a glass each to try. Now I know something I didn't know before: it's possible to make a fine wine from the Aligote - Didier Fornerol has done it. That said, however, both Susie and I felt like a red for dinner that night and I chose the excellent South African Meerlust Rubicon 1994, good value at £20.

The menu is both table d'hote and a la carte. The set dinner is £22 and is three courses including vegetables or salad, and coffee or tea. Some of the dishes from the table d'hote were also on the a la carte so I'll give you just a few to give you an idea: starters included Irish mutton broth, serrano ham, pasta with crab, pancakes with mushrooms and ham, Roquefort tartlet, crab tartlet and goats cheese and bacon salad. Main courses included duck with apple and beetroot, fillet of pork, stuffed chicken breast with carrot and potato rosti, game pie or pheasant breast and steaks. The a la carte also listed oysters and five vegetarian starters. In the end Susie chose the crab tartlet and I had the Roquefort one, then she chose the baked haddock (the fish of the day) and I chose the game pie.

After a while we were shown into the adjoining dining room, which as the name suggests, is beamed. Two connecting rooms make up the dining area and a large, black stove sits between them emitting plenty of heat. The tables are nicely set and the walls, like the bar, were also hung with paintings. Both our starters were delicious and we were able to accompany them with the fine Aligote, leaving our Meerlust to sit a little and await the main courses. Susie's haddock arrived baked in a crumb and not only looked good, but said Susie, was also 'completely delicious.' My game pie wasn't quite what I'd expected. It did have the duck, pigeon and venison, but came on the plate looking exactly like a game casserole around which four quadrants of thin pastry had been placed. Personally I'd never cook game without bacon, but this had too much for my taste - it rather overpowered the game. It occurred to me in a flash of rapier wit that if we'd chosen our main courses the other way around then I'd have been able to say when ordering 'I'm on the fish and my wife's on the game,' which, profoundly witty as it is, would also have been a certain way of annoying my wife.

I'm not one who normally enthuses over vegetables, but part of what we were served was purple sprouting broccoli. Not the tasteless, Dutch greenhouse-forced Calabrese, but the real thing - stir fried and unbelievably good. So good that I did an Oliver and asked for more. Our host rightly took it as a compliment and told me that he grew and picked it himself. It was just another example of the personal touch which I so like. In a way eating in a restaurant like this is like eating in someone's house, you have a sense that you're a guest rather than simply another punter to take a few quid off. Desserts were a chocolate marquise, a pineapple pavlova, a passion fruit soufflé glace, an orange parfait, cheesecake, brown bread ice-cream and cheese.

Twenty years ago I had a chef called Humphrey Weightman who first introduced me to brown bread ice-cream, so I was delighted to see it on the menu. Susie chose the marquise with a ball of the brown bread ice-cream to go with it and I had a plate of cheeses, mostly Irish and all in excellent condition. As Susie ate her marquise she began to sound like Meg Ryan in 'When Harry met Sally', so much did she enjoy it. I finished with coffee and a 1970 Calvados, which at less than a fiver was remarkable. Our bill came to £71.15, which I felt was good value for what we'd had. Oh yes, and we left with a painting from the wall as well.