It was, as ever, a largely impromptu thing. I'd phoned Isobel Smith, looking for a dining companion, only to discover that she'd already made arrangements for dinner. She was going to Liaison in Clontarf with her friends Thierry and Peter and her son Carl. 'Why don't you join us?' she asked, and not being able to think of one reason why not, I did. I'm glad I did, it was a very cosmopolitan table. Peter is a New York artist who has exhibited in Isobel's gallery, and Thierry is a diplomat who speaks languages with the fluency that his profession demands. English, French, Spanish and Italian were all spoken as the meal progressed. Call me a Europhile, but I like that.

We'd met up in Cusack's on the way to Clontarf and drove in convoy. Actually, Liaison is easy enough to find, it's on a corner and overlooks the strand. Inside it's quite small, perhaps seven or eight tables, and it has an unfussy décor that's soothing. We were given a large round table by the window. Good linen and napery covered it, well-upholstered chairs surrounded it, and good cutlery and accoutrements completed it. As we looked through the menu and wine list we talked of food and I discovered that Thierry is a gastronome. He was once the treasurer of a French gastronomic society with 45,000 members, so he knows a thing or two. We spoke of Curnon Sky, the French writer on gastronomy, who formulated the wonderfully simple dictum that 'foods should taste of what they are'. If your ingredients are of the finest quality, it can be followed to perfection.

The wine list began with two pages of 'recommended wines', one of red and one of white. There were ten on each page and they ranged in price from roughly £14 to £20, which is a reasonable selection. After that there were odd listings for different countries, some listing only one, others two or three. A listing of Bordeaux had nothing under £20. In the end I picked an Australian Shiraz at £17.75 which was pleasant enough, but I can't help feeling that when I'm paying that sort of money, a wine with a plastic cork isn't really acceptable.

The menu consisted of two pages, one of starters and one of main courses. It began with French Onion soup at just under £6, then it listed a special of carpaccio of beef, a goats cheese, bruschetta, gravadlax, Caesar salad, scallops and langoustines and a club sandwich, the most expensive starter being £10.50. My immediate impression was of a pricey menu - £6 for soup is definitely in the upper reaches. This impression was further confirmed with the main courses, which are priced in the £16-£20 range, but don't include vegetables, so adding in the side orders can make for an expensive main course. There were some interesting-looking dishes: Navarin of lamb, Wellington of pork, breast of chicken, escalope of salmon Kiev and beef with a foie gras gravy.

Before the starters arrived the breads came. Three differently flavoured rolls were on offer, none of them very fresh. Between us we tried a variety of starters, Carl had a salad which arrived served in a crust basket and looked very nice, but he was at a loss as to how to eat it. Thankfully his mother came to the rescue by cutting it up, lettuce and basket and all. I had a generous portion of the gravadlax - marinated salmon - which was tender and nicely flavoured with dill, and I picked at Thierry's scallops and langoustines. His only observation was that the coral part of the scallop is always the hardest to cook right, since it cooks faster than the white meat. Often that means it arrives overcooked, as was the case on his plate.

The main courses were well-spread among us; Carl had asked for chicken, but without any sauce, both Isabel and Thierry had the Navarin of lamb, Peter had a special and I had the Wellington of pork. If, like me, you understand the word 'Wellington' as applied to food to mean wrapped and baked in pastry, then my dish wouldn't have fitted the description. What I got was a piece of pork fillet cooked rather more than I'd have liked, with a soft piece of pastry on top. Maybe we hit a bad night for pastry; neither Isobel nor Thierry ate the pastry that surrounded their Navarin of lamb.

Young Carl was keen on a pudding, so we ordered one for him, and then, rather annoyingly, we took tastes of his. We finished the meal with three coffees.

Now I'm going to go through the bill in detail. Five starters and five main courses came to £124.50, or about £25 each. Even by Dublin standards that's expensive for two courses, unless you happen to have a Michelin star or two. To charge prices like these you need to have several things in place, and not just good food. As a customer, to pay well above average prices and remain contented, you need to have had well above average food, service and ambience. I didn't feel that I'd had value for money with a total bill of £185.75.

But I'm troubled by the fact that in this city - which I'm told is awash with disposable income - money is being spent without much discernment. Is there any reason why as punters we are being asked to pay prices you'd be hard put to find in downtown Manhattan? If the only rationale for this phenomenon is that people will pay whatever is asked of them, then we leave the door open to anyone to take our money with ease. Of course, you can vote with your feet and never return to where you had a bad experience, but that doesn't help you avoid the bad experience in the first place. There's no doubt that demand is pushing restaurant prices higher, but thankfully it's still possible to eat well without spending a fortune. If there's any fairness in the world, then hopefully the restaurants that offer value for money will proliferate and prosper, keeping dining out the pleasure it ought to be.