On my very occasional forays onto the Dublin stage there tends to be a fixture somewhere in the run, either at the end or at the beginning, and that's a cast meal in the Trocadero. Like Joe Allen's in Covent Garden the Trocadero has always been a haunt of theatricals. It's in the very fabric of the place; there are signed photographs of actors on the walls, the logo on the menu is made up of the two masks, one happy and one sad. If you wanted to be a stage door groupie in more comfort, this is the place where you'd find the actors.

It's one of those venerable Dublin institutions that's been there for as long as I've been in Dublin - and that's more years than I care to remember. Over those years I've eaten there many times, but I can't say that I can remember any of the meals. The company yes, the food no. But I did feel that sooner or later it was a restaurant I'd have to review, simply because it's heritage is so long and because I've always enjoyed the nights I've spent there.

The perfect opportunity finally arrived when I arranged to have dinner with Janina Poznanska, an actor (actress?) who now lives in Wicklow. 'How do you spell that?' I asked. 'P.O.Z.N.A.N.S.K.A,' she said, 'but that's an Anglicised version of the Polish. You could spell it Poscnanska.' She paused for a while and wrote something down on a piece of paper. 'Or Poscznanska.' She pronounced it a few times for me. 'What about spelling it PJIODSCZNIANSKIA?' I asked. 'Too complicated,' she said. We were walking down Grafton Street towards the Trocadero, talking of directors, plays, auditions and getting known. 'A name like Pzscnksza should get attention,' I ventured.

Since I was last in the Trocadero it's grown. Nearly doubled in size, to be accurate. The new bit runs parallel to the old dining room and its main feature is a large semicircular bar which dominates the front part of the room, along with a fine marble fire-place on the opposite wall. There's a feel of Art Deco in the room; Liberty style glass lampshades and shell sconces, gilt mirrors and lots of shiny brass trim around the mahogany bar. The walls, like the original room, are lined with actor's photographs. I found myself sitting underneath my old friend Stephen Brennan, smiling engagingly at the room. When we arrived we were shown to a tiny table, but neither Ms. Psznska nor I were keen to sit in such Lilliputian lack of elbow-room. 'No problem,' said our waiter and moved us to a table that had been set for four. The wall side had deeply upholstered benches, the other, harder bent-wood chairs. We sat side by side in comfort, backs to the wall, admiring the large, mosaic-covered pillars that flank the bar.

The menu in the Trocadero is what I'd call a 'safe' menu. There are plenty of tried and tested dishes and the menu seems to be the same as it has been for years. The starters are simple and uncomplicated; dishes like deep-fried Brie, pate, Caesar salad, avocado salad, taramossalata, devilled lambs' kidneys and smoked salmon with brown bread. They are all under a fiver except for the smoked salmon, which is £5.95. Janina picked the deep-fried Brie and I chose the kidneys. There were three fish dishes; monkfish with a mango sauce, sole Meuniere and baked sea-trout, and then the meats which included breast of duck, chicken Kiev, breast of chicken fromage, canelloni, penne with spinach, rack of lamb, Irish stew, sirloin steak and fillet steak. The main courses run from £11-19, but this price doesn't include anything other than the meat or fish - vegetables and potatoes come as side orders at £2.95, which can make some of these dishes rather expensive. After much discussion as to how fresh fish could be on a Monday night, Ms. Przsczskya chose the black sole at £18.50 and I had the Irish stew at £10.50, plus we added a side order of Dauphinoise potatoes since they figured heavily on the menu, and a green salad.

The wine list is average in length and for the most part is average in its mark-up. It begins with a white wine of the month from the Loire at £16.50 and a red from Bergerac at £15.50. House wines are £13, but have no country of origin or vintage listed. The list proper begins unusually with Italian wines - some very ordinary such as Orvieto and Frascati - then a couple of Chilean, Australian and New Zealand wines, and some French with a few good regionals such as the Guigal Cotes de Rhones. We'd decided on red, so I picked the Errazuriz Cabernet-Sauvignon from Chile, which I've always thought was good value and which was listed at £14.95.

The starters arrived and Janina was presented with two huge pieces of deep-fried Brie, runny on the inside and crisp on the outside. I got a delicious plateful of pink kidneys, but not what I call devilled. I got a creamy mustard sauce, which I like a lot, but devilled they were not. Despite our reservations about the possible freshness of the fish, Janina got a large black sole which had been cooked on the bone, and which tasted fine. My Irish stew was a meal fit for an actor who hasn't eaten for a day or two; a big portion of stew with much more meat than vegetables - tender and tasty. If Irish stew always tasted like this I'd have it more often.

As is so often the case neither of had much appetite for dessert, but we looked at the menus again. Rather like the rest of the menu it has no surprises; there's a B52 chocolate mousse cake, a chocolate torte, a sherry trifle and a cheesecake. The B52 looked interesting, since I wouldn't have thought of likening a Flying Fortress to a pudding, so I ordered it. It came with a mango sauce, which by itself was good, but I wasn't persuaded that it went well with the chocolate bomber. All the desserts are priced at £3.95.

The bill came to £60.45, not including service charge, so I added a tip for our very professional waiter. A meal in the Trocadero is made up of decent, competent food; a buzz of theatrical life; very pleasing surroundings and it's priced reasonably enough so that even poor, underpaid actors can eat here.