If there is anything that might be considered a compensation for the ghastly process of getting older, it might be that you start to recognise the patterns and the lineage of history. It's not much of a compensation and it's entirely dependent on retaining a memory, but it's a consolation of a sort. Just like everything else there are styles and fashions in food and restaurants; some come and go quickly, others remain longer. When you've been around as long as I have you start to see the patterns.

Just as McDonalds likes to trace its history from a humble burger beginning to its University of Fast Food, so too does Slow Food have a genealogy - albeit somewhat longer. In the early part of this century, good restaurants drew their pedigree from the French style of haute cuisine. Silver service was the norm in any restaurant that took itself seriously, the waiters were in black, the diners made an effort to dress for dinner. It was a formal occasion where all the players had a part to play. In Dublin this particular pedigree came through a line starting with Jammets and the old Russell hotel and all but died away with the passing of both of those kitchens. But yet it lives on still, and it lives in Donnybrook.

Ernie's is in a lane behind the main road and it appears to be purpose built as a restaurant. It's a 'U' shaped building with a small and pretty garden enclosed by the arms, which is stuffed with pelargoniums surrounding a fountain, and is dominated by a large and venerable pear tree. The outside walls of the restaurant are mostly glass, giving uninterrupted views of the flood-lit garden. We were met and welcomed at the door and shown to a small lounge where we began with some water. The artist Susan Morley and I had come here to meet the in-laws and had arrived a little early, which gave us time to explore the garden, the menus and the wine list.

First impressions are strong here, because in many ways it's unlike other restaurants. Memories came back to me of dining with my grandfather as a young boy in The Aperetif in Edinburgh back in the fifties. The maitre is in elegant tails, a wing collar and a white waistcoat; the waiters in simpler dinner suits. It has that touch of formality of more elegant and less casual times, although the building itself is modern in its decor, and more importantly in the collection of paintings that bedeck every inch of wall space. It's an important collection of modern Irish art and I was especially struck by the works of John Doherty whose photo-realism is technically wondrous.

Ernie's offers a set dinner at £25 with a 12.5% service charge and an a la carte. Roughly speaking the starters are just short of a tenner and main courses just short of the twenty mark, so you'd have to be prepared to spend plenty of money to dine here. The wine list too is designed for moneyno-object diners. The first few pages are given over to Bordeaux Grands Crus which are listed as you might expect, with three-figure prices much in evidence. The vast majority of the list is French, entirely in keeping with the ethos, although there are a few New World wines listed almost as an afterthought right at the end of the list. We chose the Kanonkop Cabernet Sauvignon from the RSA at £34. Don't expect too much choice here if you want to spend less than £20 on wine. Actually I spotted what might be considered a bargain, a Tignanello 1994 for £55, which I suspect is an old price.

It never fails: just as I lit a cigarette it was time to go to the table. There are no surprises in the dining room; plenty of space, large tables, good linen, expensive crockery, cutlery and glassware, and wonderful paintings. Even the chairs are comfortable. A large selection of breads began the meal, served with a little pot of tapinade. Two Caesar salads for the ladies, a warm confit of duck salad and a Tian of crab for the men. The presentation is charming, the Caesar salads arrived in a filo pastry basket that looked like a miniature wicker basket of the sort you see at Protestant sales of work. Having finished my crab, rather as a high-power suction hose might, I reached out and speared a fine piece of duck from the brother-in-law's plate, thinking he'd finished as well. Howls of protest informed me he'd been saving that large, succulent bit for last. Sorry.

Both of the ladies had gone for a sea food platter of scallops and prawns - generous portions on fine, big plates while us chaps had red meat; fillet of beef with morel sauce and rack of Wicklow lamb for me. Everything I tasted was beautifully cooked, but I'm glad I had the lamb, it was exquisite. So good that when I'd finished (and by now I was far too timid to reach over to anyone else's plate) I started to gnaw at the bones, rather like a terrier, removing every last trace of the tasty meat. As I put the last clean bone down on my plate, a finger bowl and napkin arrived unobtrusively beside me - a perfect example of the sort of attentive service that accompanied our meal.

Feeling replete and contented we mused over our surroundings. 'Old money would be happy here,' was a comment I remember. It's just not flash and trendy: it's quietly old-fashioned in the best sense of the word, retaining all that's good from an era of dining that's almost gone. I've no doubt no one would mind if you turned up in shirtsleeves, but I'm glad I was wearing a jacket.

Only the ladies had desserts - a chocolatey, creamy thing that made them happy - while we men, (and you're both wee men, came the witty comment from across the table) had a coffee and a glass of Beaumes de Venise each, secure in the knowledge that we were about to be driven home. It would have been easy to linger in the comfort and ease of this room, but offspring needed collecting from a disco. A meal in Ernie's isn't really about cost, it's about being pampered and they do it very well.