A new biography of a man I like to think of as an ancestor had me thinking about dead languages and reaching for my well-thumbed 'Ritchie's Latin Primer'. The biography, by Anthony Everitt, is of Cicero - or to give him his full name, Marcus Tullius Cicero of the Tullius family, and he's the man I fondly imagine to be my direct antecedent. He was born about five miles from my village in Italy, so that's obviously proof enough for me. And my, how the thoughts flowed in these Roman reveries.

Has anyone really taken seriously the idea that the Romans got to the moon? How else can you explain that all its major features have Latin names? Chariots of the Romans, that's what. But before you start to wonder what Latin has to do with restaurant reviews, let me explain. What the Romans liked best after making war, making empire-wide peace and making laws, was having stomach-wrenching feasts - hence the vomitarium. They loved their wine too, and even noted its social consequences in the phrase 'in vino veritas'.They were the great gourmets of the past. Henry Beard once had fun re-working Renee Descartes' famous dictum 'cogito ergo sum' or 'I think, therefore I am' into variations such as 'cogito ergo doleo' or 'I think, therefore I am depressed', and my current favourite; 'cogito ergo edo' or 'I think, therefore I eat'. You see? Food and Latin go well together - especially in Vatican restaurants.

But this week my visit was to the south-east, to Wexford town, where little Latin is spoken. Not being afraid of asking for opinions, I'd asked Tom Doorley for a suggestion for Wexford. 'Try Mange 2' was his considered response, so I did. My guest was Jane Stephenson, a lady who organises all kinds of things like power breakfasts and seminars with guest speakers on a huge range of subjects. I hadn't been too specific about where exactly we were going and somewhere around Gorey she winkled out of me that Wexford was the destination, and Mange 2 in particular. 'What's it like?' she asked. Never having been there I couldn't really answer that, but then I had a brainwave. Out of the glove-box came Georgina Campbell's guide. 'It'll probably be in there,' I said, 'have a look.' She found the entry and wailed 'Where are you taking me? It says here it has plastic flowers. And it's at the unfashionable end of the Main Street. Why can't we go to Patrick Guilbaud's?' I kicked for touch. 'Trust me,' I said, 'and Tom Doorley. The food'll be good.'

At the end of Wexford's interminably long Main Street we found Mange 2. It didn't look unfashionable to me and the outside of the restaurant looked attractive enough. We stopped for a moment outside to look at the displayed menu but were driven in by the biting summer's wind. Inside it's plain enough, a Pompeian red on the walls (Latin everywhere this week) and simple wooden tables surrounded by slightly padded wooden chairs. You can see into the kitchen from some of the tables, but not from where we were sitting. Above the service counter there's a blackboard with the day's specials - on the night there was a potato and leek soup, asparagus, and fillets of sole as a main course. Most of the starters were in £5 to £7 range and the main courses were in the £12 to £14 range, the menu a fairly typical mix of mod-med dishes.

The wine list has to have the smallest mark-up that I've ever seen in a restaurant. It's not a long list, but there's enough on it to satisfy most tastes. There's a couple of wines over £20, but only just. These days I rarely order a French wine in a restaurant as decent ones tend to come with big price tags, but on this list there was a Louis Latour Chablis for under £20. Hard to resist, especially as Jane had opted for a white wine, so that's what we ordered. Just to give you an idea of the precision of this list, a Barbera Reserve varietal from Australia is priced at £17.05, whilst house wines are priced at a meagre £10.

A bottle of mineral water and a jug of tap water came first, along with a tray of really fresh and very good bread. While we nibbled on this I watched the two waiters work the room of a dozen or so tables. If it proved anything to me, it reinforced my long-held view that two trained and professional waiters can do with ease and grace what five untrained but willing people can do. Never for a moment was there a sense that we were overlooked, and looking around at the other guests I could see that everyone else was getting similar levels of attention.

Jane had ordered the prawns as a starter and they were superb. Beautifully cooked and flavoured with a hint of ginger they had Jane won over. I'd ordered a confit of duck which was perfectly crisply cooked. Between them they were two of the better starters that have been placed before me this year. The main courses were equally impressive. Jane had ordered the lemon sole from the blackboard and she had five fillets on her plate, rolled up with an olive tapinade inside looking for all the world like tiny marine Swiss rolls. I'd ordered the saddle of rabbit which was equally generous. Surveying my plate I briefly considered dividing it into three parts to see would it be easier to conquer, but I let that Caesarian idea go. The vegetables came 'en cartouche', a little parcel of paper that released wonderful aromas when they were opened up. Tiny buttered new potatoes completed the serving.

By the end of these two courses Jane was in no mood for a pudding, but given the skills of the chef I was determined to have one. All desserts were listed at £3.75 and I tried a few out on Jane, trying to make them sound irresistibly tempting. 'What about double baked chocolate cake? Or white chocolate and blueberry parfait? Orange and cardamom bavarois? Tempted?' Nothing doing, Jane was unmoveable. But the words 'brandy snaps' have a pull like Jupiter's gravity on me, so I ordered them. They came with an 'exotic fruit consommé', a bowl of cold fruit soup - which was much, much nicer than it sounds.

A couple of good coffees finished our meal and left us feeling that the trip to Wexford was well worth it. The bill, including a couple of after dinner drinks, came to £72.25 not including service. I thought I'd finish this review with a Latin tag-line, but on second thoughts I won't. After all, cauponas percenseo.