As someone who's personal lineage goes through many generations of peasantry, I have nothing against peasants, peasantry in general or peasant food. In fact, for a daily diet I think I'd prefer the uncomplicated clean tastes of peasant food than over-worked, over-refined dishes whose sophistication can only pall after a while. It would be easy, if body weight weren't a consideration, to eat a big bowl of pasta every day. That's exactly what millions of Italian peasants did for centuries until economic prosperity caught up with them and they could afford pop-tarts. The strange thing is that it's possible to eat these kinds of staples every day and never get bored with them. Or maybe it's the other way round; the only dishes that become national staples are those that don't become boring, even on a daily basis.

What distinguishes peasant food from a more refined cuisine is the simplicity of the ingredients. The amount of complication in the preparation, both in terms of time, effort and skill can be as demanding as any haute cuisine, and indeed it's sometimes even more labour-intensive. This isn't surprising in a cuisine where the only item that isn't costed is the labour involved. An example of this is the traditional 'minestra' - a vegetable-based soup - from Lazio, which takes more than ten hours of preparation to be done right. It's a dish that's increasingly hard to find, as no one these days can be bothered to take that much time to make a soup when a packet and some boiling water make a sort of substitute.

What makes one national peasant fare different from another's is only the ingredients. Italian and French peasant foods are tasty partly because people pride themselves on their culinary skills, but also because the cuisine evolved from a much larger base of ingredients than say the regional cooking of Britain or Ireland. Quite simply you can grow a much greater variety of vegetables, fruits and pulses in the Mediterranean basin than you can on the Blaskets. Greater variety meant a larger number of combinations of foods and flavours, and consequently a greater diversity of dishes.

Traditionally what distinguished courtly food from that of the peasants was the ingredients. Over the centuries different rulers have kept different foods only for courtly kitchens. Venison, rabbits, swans and even medlars have been reserved in the past for nobility. This wider variety of ingredients plus the skills of the finest cooks ensured that courtly cooking - haute cuisine - became increasingly complex and elaborate, even if the dishes were originally an elaboration of a simple peasant dish.

It's a fact that China has more people within its boundaries than any other nation on earth, and it's also true that China has more people making their living from the land than any other nation. It comes as no surprise then, that much of Chinese cooking is peasant based. It's been my experience up to now, never having been to China, that Chinese restaurants produce a European version of regional Chinese food. Until now I'd never had a meal that seemed to me subtle and elegant. Tasty, wholesome and plentiful yes, gourmet no. And so it was that when Chris-the-brother-in-law, Diane, my wife Susie and I went to the Sichuan Restaurant in Kilmacud, I was unprepared for the food that arrived before me.

The Sichuan is in a small group of shops on the Kilmacud Road and if you're lucky you can find parking outside the restaurant. Inside it looks like many Chinese restaurants, booths around the sides and linen-covered tables in the middle - it's simple and uncluttered. We sat at one of the booths in some comfort and looked though the menu. This is in itself is no small task, as there are many pages of menu. While we were turning page after page Chris dealt with the wine list and selected a really good Italian Pinot Grigio from Collavini at £17.50. It's a good list, lots of wines under £20 and there are surprises - I wouldn't have expected to have seen the Lebanese Chateau Musar on the list.

Chris and I decided for the sake of simplicity to eat off the set dinner menu, which at £19.50 gives you four courses and plenty of choices. Diane and Susie, a little intimidated by the thought of four courses, stayed with the a la carte. We all had soup to begin; a wonton soup for Susie, vegetable sweet and sour for Diane, while both Chris and I had the sweet and sour with chicken. Soup is not often one of my primary choices, but it was delicious as were the other soups. Next, as an intermediary course, Chris had lamb wontons and I had the squid strips. I can't recall when I last had such tender and perfectly cooked squid - I had quite a fight using my fork as a weapon to keep the others from picking at my plate with their fingers.

Since our waiter was so charming and knowledgeable, both Chris and I had placed the choice of our main courses in his hands. We were given sweet and sour chicken with a Sichuan sauce and shredded pork while Susie and Diane had sizzling prawns and a sea-food platter respectively. These were all placed on hot-plates on the table and we were able to pick 'n' mix onto our bowls of rice. I do remember being slightly irked at how expertly everyone except me was using their chopsticks. I relented and used a fork. We'd also ordered an extra vegetable dish, a green Chinese leaf with an extraordinary flavour - almost smoky - which disappeared very quickly.

Desserts are of the bought-in variety, but after a meal of such wonderful savouriness none of us were much tempted. Fresh lychees all round was what we had, followed by coffee. I felt that not only had we eaten well, we'd eaten lightly. There was a subtlety in both the flavouring and the preparation that made this a very good meal and the Sichuan a restaurant I'd be happy to go back to.