It was a sunny evening, little white clouds dotted the horizon, a warm light bathed the garden in a breezeless air and we sat outside, admiring the works of nature in all its wonder. 'It's a nice evening for a drive', said my wife, 'why don't we go out to eat?' 'Where?' I answered, looking up briefly from my crossword. 'I've heard about this little restaurant by the sea, and the food is supposed to be good.' 'Where is it?' I asked, my mind still grappling with 24 across. 'Wexford', quoth she, 'near Gorey.' 'Bloody great', I quipped. 'What?' 'Gorey - bloody, geddit?' 'Oh very funny.'

Now I've noticed a thing or two about wives over the years. Apart from not finding their husband's jokes funny any more - even if they've only heard them 50 to 100 times - they have access to a database that's denied to men. It's the sorority database; a kind of secret society into which you can only be inducted if you happen to be female. They know stuff and share stuff, but only with other women. When I asked how she'd heard about it she told me that a woman in her yoga class had told her about it. See what I mean? Still, I wasn't averse to a drive to Wexford so off we went.

'What do you know about it?' I asked her as we sped along the Arklow bypass. 'It overlooks the sea, it's small and quaint, the food's good, and um... that's it.' 'Okay. You have the directions?' 'Well, sort of.' Agghh. That's the stuff that arguments in cars are made of. 'Sort of directions' normally means we get lost and I get cross. Luckily this time we found the 'Bosun's Chair' with just one wrong turning and one stop to ask directions. But picture this: you drive into a caravan park to get to it. I stopped outside the restaurant and turned to my wife accusingly. 'You didn't say anything about it being the dinette in a caravan park. And anyway, where's the sea?' We had one of those husband and wife moments and then walked in.

From the moment we entered and were met with great charm, I began to feel better. We were shown into the dining room which has a back wall of windows which do look over the sea and we took a window table. There's a maritime theme in this restaurant, a central pillar becomes a mast, a large boom hangs from it held up by block and tackle. The tables are dark varnished wood, the chairs are Windsor type, there are woollen place mats and old photographs on the walls. It looks like a restaurant where you might expect to find a mixed grill and chips on the menu. So it comes as a surprise when you look down the menu to find all manner of interesting dishes. It began with deep-fried crab risotto, red onion tartlet topped with goats cheeese, prawn cocktail, smoked salmon, caesar salad, deep-fried filo of prawns, beef tomato and mozzarella salad and chicken liver parfait. These were mostly between £3.50 and £4.50, except for the prawns which were £5.50. Main courses included a sea-food platter, salmon with a tomato beurre blanc, medallions of monkfish with a wholegrain mustard marinade, roast scallops, panfried Dover sole on the bone and an escalope of veal black and white. There were standards too, like sirloin steak, duckling and lamb for the less adventurous. Mostly the main courses were priced between £12 and £14 and they came with vegetables. We decided right at the start that we'd pick dishes that needed to be cooked, unlike say, smoked salmon or oysters. Susie chose the crab risotto and followed it with the sea-food platter, while I picked the chicken liver parfait and then the veal black and white, curious as to what it might be.

The wine list is very short and reasonably priced. None of the reds or whites really caught my fancy, but in a moment of inspiration I realised that what we needed on a warm summer's evening was the Rose d'Anjou, which was listed at a modest £13. Every summer I rediscover how nice roses can be, whether with a meal or just to sip while enjoying a few rays of sunshine. Maybe it's a good thing that roses are largely under-rated, it's one area of a wine list where you can still find value for money. Funnily enough we'd been drinking Calon Segur's rose just a few days earlier, a good wine at a fraction of the price of the classed growth red.

My starter was very good; Susie's crab risotto - more like deep-fried rice balls - was stunning. The blend of flavours was expertly and defly handled, a sign I always believe, of a gifted chef. But then, I thought to myself, how often has my meal begun with amazing starters only to be followed by mediocre main courses? I decided to wait and see what came next before enthusing. Susie's platter of seafood would have satisfied the biggest appetite I know, a large plate stuffed with all manner of delicacies from the sea and all beautifully prepared and presented. My black and white dish turned out to be tournedos of veal and beef, the veal in a pale sauce and the beef in a dark one. Expertly cooked and with a wonderful flavour I savoured and enjoyed each mouthful. Four perfect dishes out of four is a rare event and whoever the chef is here, he has my admiration. Even the vegetables, so often an afterthought, were cooked perfectly and each one flavoured delicately and imaginatively.

I would happily have finished my meal here, but Susie correctly pointed out that if the food was this good, the desserts would probably be pretty amazing as well. The menu listed chocolate marquise, pancakes with a lemon sauce, wild berry tartlet, ice-creams, sorbets and creme buleee all at £2.95. Susie has never been one to turn down a creme brulee, so that's what she chose. Together we tasted yet another perfectly made dish. Outside the window the dusk settled gently on a sea as flat as glass, a cloudless sky above. I felt a warm glow of pleasure suffusing me. 'Nice one, Susie,' I said.

Probably the best thing about this job is when you find really good food unexpectedly. This meal will stand out in my memory for a while to come and it won't surprise me one little bit if one day soon this chef really makes his mark. A bill for a modest £57.35 was an added bonus.