The advent of summer has a multitude of signs and portents. For some it's the first cuckoo; perhaps the arrival of the swallows or the May blossom; for others it's the first mattress dumped at the side of the Sugar Loaf. But for me it's the sighting of the cyclists which finally signals that summer's here. These summer migrants are a colourful addition to the local Wicklow fauna - their luminescent stretch Lycra body stockings and those hats like a bunch of bananas strapped to the top of their heads, makes them a seasonal visitor that's easy to spot. Never found singly, they travel in packs and fill the road up to ten abreast. And with the cyclists come the charabancs; gently moving Goliath's that sway endearingly in the middle of the road while their passengers lean out of the windows pointing and taking photographs. Words like 'reisen' and 'viaggi' and 'vacances' emblazon the sides and back of the continental ones, while the more simple 'tours' marks the home-spun variety. And what romantic evocations these destination names bring; Glendalough, the Vale of Clara, Avoca and Ballykissangel. It's through these summer months that I realise I live in the middle of tourist heaven.

And if you were one of them, even for just one sunny afternoon, into whose hands would you commend your appetite? That's the question that came into my mind after an exceptionally slow and trafficked drive home one evening. I've been told that Glendalough is second only to Blarney in the number of visitors it gets, so where do they go after they've seen the Round Tower? I persuaded my wife to accompany me on a quest to find out. The Vale of Avoca; The Meetings of the Waters; the confluence of the Avonmore and the Avonbeg; these place-names are redolent with magic, mysticism and Celtic spirituality. Until, of course, you translate them and find that the Meetings is where the Big River meets the Small River, which is marginally more prosaic.

We drove from Laragh along the heavily wooded road to Rathdrum which looks for all the world like a leafy tunnel, all the trees except the ash, splendid in their bright green new leaves. We talked as we went, wondering was it Thomas Moore or Percy French who'd written about the Vale of Avoca? We got to the Meetings about thirty minutes before sunset and parked across the road. The Meetings is what the English call a road-house; it's essentially a pub, but it has a restaurant, function rooms and a garden, all of which overlook the river and the meetings. Susie had booked us a table and had been told that last orders were at 9.30 and the set dinner was £12. Yes, that's right, £12. I know places where you'd pay that for a starter.

Knowing that, you shape your expectations accordingly. Three courses plus coffee for £12 is so cheap that you wonder how on earth it can be done. The first question that was answered as we walked into the dining room was who wrote 'Sweet Vale of Avoca'. There, in the middle of the floor painted on the linoleum, was the Moore crest. 'Vert, lion rampant or, three mullets or,' said Susie, who knows a thing or two about heraldry. 'Tongue gules,' she added mysteriously after a bit. We took a table next to the window and looked out at the ivy-covered bridge, the sallies, the river and the sunset. There are moments when living in Ireland makes a lot of sense.

The tables are small and set for four, but for two there's room enough. Paper place settings and napkins came as no surprise, nor did the plastic flowers on the table nor the foil-wrapped butter pats. There are little sachets of red sauce, brown sauce, horseradish and something that called itself mayonnaise. The room looks like a seventies tea-room with Windsor chairs and slatted-topped tables, but the view out of the window was impressive. We were handed the menus and wine list, although since the restaurant is annexed to the bar you could happily drink beer here. The menu is of the fail-safe variety with nothing complex, and it's traditional enough to please even the most recalcitrant advocate of la cuisine grande-mere. From the starters Susie picked the smoked trout salad and I chose the deep-fried breaded mushrooms with garlic butter. The main courses come served with vegetables and potatoes, either boiled or chipped. The glazed half duck tempted Susie so she chose that, and I chose what I knew couldn't go wrong, a ten-ounce sirloin steak.

The wine list is short but very reasonably priced - so reasonable in fact, that the prices aren't far from offlicense prices. The house wines were £8.95 a bottle and even a sparkling Veuve de Vernay was only £16. In keeping with the old-fashioned feel of the menu both Mateus Rose and a Piesporter were on the wine list, but in the end since we were both eating meat, I picked Wolfgang Blass's Shiraz, priced at only £14.50, a fine full-bodied bodied wine bursting with fruit.

The starters gave us an idea of what to expect later. Susie's smoked trout salad was composed of two large fillets of trout, a salad and coleslaw, which so filled the plate it was hard to eat without food falling off the edge. Mine was similar: a small kidney-shaped bowl with the mushrooms sat on a larger plate that held my salad and coleslaw. I tried not to finish everything on my plate for fear of having no appetite left for the main course. Good thing too, because the main courses arrived on large, oval plates filled to overflowing. With our meats came a mound of sliced beans, carrots Julienne, onion rings, a salad and button mushrooms. A ten-ounce steak isn't usually easy to miss, but here it disappeared under the mass of food that surrounded it. While I was wondering who would have the sort of appetite that could finish a plateful like this, our waitress arrived with another big dish of chips which she left on the table.

The idea of a dessert after this lot was unthinkable, but we forced ourselves to share a home-made apple and blueberry tart with a scoop of ice-cream. I'd said no to coffee because I assumed it would be ghastly, but then I heard the unmistakable sounds of an espresso machine, which changed my mind. With simple, plain food and generous portions, this is the sort of place I'd be delighted to find after a day building up an appetite hill-walking. The bill, including two cognacs and mineral water as well, came to £47.10.