It was one of those spontaneous, spur of moment things. Our friends and neighbours John and Isabella, suggested that we go out and try a new restaurant in Enniskerry where Michael would join us from Dublin. Perfect. A half-way house convenient for us all, plus the possibility of a good restaurant nearby for the future. Better still, as Isabella doesn't drink, she could be the designated driver and I could be the designated drunk. We'd already heard through the Wicklow grapevine that Gambas was good, so we set off with high expectations.

It's in the middle of Enniskerry so it was easy to find and we got parking right outside the door. As we went past a small reception area to our table a strong smell of garlic pervading the air had my gastric juices flowing. There's a raised section at the back of the main room and it's there that we were seated at a small, cramped table on very hard bentwood chairs. So cramped, that every time throughout the night a waiter went in or out of the kitchen door just behind me, I'd get a knock.

Although the tables were covered in cloth, the napkins were cheap paper and above our heads was what looked like an air extractor - but if it was, it didn't work. As the evening went by the smells of cooking became more intrusive and the room got hotter and smokier.

Although the evening was spent with good friends, it did not turn into a happy dining experience. The reasons for this were many and cumulative, so I'll take them in groups, starting with the food. The menu isn't cheap - starters range from £5-8 and main courses run right up to £19, which puts Gambas very much in the upper price range. Two averagely priced courses here will cost you over £20, as opposed to say The Merrion Hotel, where even with city centre rents and rates you can still eat two courses for £15. Paying high prices like these means you can expect, and you should get, good, well-prepared food. On balance, we didn't.

'Gambas' is Spanish for prawns, so two of us had the tiger prawns as starters, which the menu describes as the house speciality. They're served on a cast iron dish and sizzle rather dramatically when they arrive, and in truth were quite nice. Isabella's mussels, described as 'marinara' came in a sauce that had too much cream and not enough wine, rather overpowering the seafood taste, and my stuffed mushrooms were bland but not unpleasant.

Twice we asked for bread and when it came it was baguette of the kind you buy in petrol stations, some of the slices hard and stale. Foilwrapped pats of butter are not what you expect to find outside of provincial tea-rooms and they really have no place in restaurants charging this kind of money. But the real problems began with the main courses. Although John's baked salmon was a generous, if slightly overcooked portion, the accompanying dill sauce was inexpert and did little to improve the fish. A variant of the same sauce was on Isabella's chicken breast (spelt brest on the menu) and Susie's sole was similarly presented. I'd chosen the beef Sicilain, (Sicilian perhaps?) which was described as slivers of sirloin. I got five randomly-sized bits of beef that tasted strongly of burnt oil, as did the dish of roasted vegetables which was placed on the table as our accompaniment. Michael, who had joined us later, had the prawns as a main course and had to share the remains of our vegetables, since prawns were all he was brought. Three of us had desserts; a good chocolate mud pie, and two stodgy strawberry thingies that John didn't eat and Susie couldn't finish. None of us had the 'profiterolls'.

Last week I was enthusing about the personal touch in Carlow, that simple thing of making people feel welcome and trying to please. 'Amateur' would be a kind way of describing our service. If you're a waiter, lesson one is 'Know what's on the menu.' Inform yourself before you take an order so that you can answer questions and help people make informed choices. Maybe not that important, but food, bottles of water and our second bottle of wine were simply placed on the table. Not only was there no attempt at service in the way that I understand the word, no one came near us at any stage to ask if we were happy, if we wanted anything, or if there was anything that they could do. When Michael arrived and we needed another chair they couldn't have been more off-hand if they'd tried. Eventually he pulled over a small, unoccupied adjoining table and chair himself. No one asked us if we wanted coffee and as it happens none of us did, but for a restaurant that has recently opened and presumably wants to build up a clientele, this laissez-faire attitude seems bizarre in the extreme.

John had chosen our wine, a good Margaux listed at £29 and as a 1995. We were brought a 1996. I've said it before, but when you're ordering New World wines or wines designed to be drunk young, it's not a problem. But with good Bordeaux it makes a difference - it's the sort of thing to which attention should be paid, again especially considering the price charged.

John, Isabella and Susie left for home in the hills and I stayed a while with Michael. We were finishing the wine when a waiter came over and said 'Can I offer you gentlemen a glass of port?' How nice, I thought, a gesture of conciliation. 'We'd love one, thank you.' Two generous glasses of a decent non-vintage port came which we sipped with pleasure. With the port finished we upped and left, saying 'goodnight' to the lady at the door. 'Excuse me,' she said, 'you haven't paid for the ports.' I handed her a credit card wordlessly, but Michael, never shy, explained that we had been under the impression that they were on the house, and that not only were we now being asked to pay, we were being treated as though we were trying to leave without paying. 'I'm sorry,' she said and handed me the credit card slip to sign. It's possible that this was just a misunderstanding, but 'may I offer you...' in a restaurant has never meant anything else to me other than 'it's on the house.'

So there you have it; an evening that cost not much short of £200. There's an underlying arrogance in pitching your brand new, untried and untested restaurant at the high end of the price range, and for me, it didn't work.