There's an old Chinese saying that has haunted me over the years: 'It's a fool who trips on the same stone twice.' Having tripped metaphorically over different stones in my life more times than I care to remember, I can't help feeling that allowing only two falls before a judgement of stupidity is passed seems unduly harsh. Perhaps it's no more than optimism that takes us repeatedly down similar paths only to find a similar stone awaiting us. There's always the lingering hope that this time the walk will be free of obstacles waiting to snag the unwary foot. And that's the horror of hope - it can stop you learning from past experiences and avoiding the pratfalls.

You're reading this at the start of a brand new, neonate year but the following events took place before Christmas. I was taking my friend and neighbour Ciara Cronin to dinner, and after a little thought we decided that somewhere outside the trafficked rush of Dublin would be the thing. She didn't mind a long drive, so we settled on de Lacy's in Kilkea Castle on the Kildare/Carlow border. I don't have a happy history of Castle Dining - up to now any castles I've eaten in have disappointed me. But that's hope for you, you'll give things another go out of unfounded optimism.

Heavy traffic held us up and I phoned ahead to say that the Cronins would not make it by 8.30, it would be more like 9. On the dot of nine we drove up the long tree-lined avenue that leads to the imposing front of the castle. Prettily floodlit, you can see it through the leafless trees for a mile or two before you get there. Once inside we were directed immediately upstairs to the dining room, which is suitably baronial. A nicely proportioned, very big, room with a high ceiling, heraldic motifs and armoury make it plain you're in a castle. Two tables were occupied at the far end of the room, and that's where we were placed - right alongside the others in an otherwise empty room.

After a long drive we both were looking forward to a glass of wine, so I started with the wine list. It's a good length with plenty of choices and it's also reasonably priced. Ciara prefers white to red, so I found myself looking at an entry from South Africa, which read simply 'Southern Right'. Somewhere in the remains of my memory was a wine that I liked from the Hamilton Russell estate in Walker Bay with the same name - named after the whales that come into the bay. I asked our lone French maitre cum sommelier if it was the wine with a whale on the label. 'No sir, it's not.' For a moment I wondered if I would accept this answer, but then I wilfully persisted. 'Can I see the bottle?' A moment, a beat, then 'Certainly.' He came back with a whale. 'We'll have that, then,' I said. He placed it on a nearby table and went off again about his work.

Back a few moments later he asked if he could take our order. 'I'd like a glass of wine first,' I said. 'But can I take your order first?' he said, pen in hand. Another pause, another beat. 'I think I'd like a glass of wine first.' I have no doubt the kitchen staff were eager to get an early night, but here's a question: is a restaurant there for the benefit of its staff or its customers?

And so to the ordering. de Lacy's offers a set dinner at £35 with a 12.5% service charge. Plenty of choices, too, and Ciara ordered the grilled goats' cheese to start and the roast Barbary duck to follow, while I chose the quail to start and John Dory for my main course. The starters were good; the St. Tolan cheese was just the right consistency and it was nicely presented with it's basil crust, and my quail came boned and stuffed and cooked perfectly. These were followed by two crisp sorbets. I was thinking that things were looking up, but another niggle intervened. We were out of wine and the wine cooler was out of reach. It seems to me that there are two strategies you can adopt as a restaurateur. One is to put the wine on the table and let the customers help themselves when they need it, the other is to place it out of reach and serve them. If you plan on doing the second, then do it right. Don't overfill the glasses and then wait to be called to pour more. Irksome.

But these little niggles paled into insignificance with the arrival of the main courses. Ciara, polite as ever, struggled with a tough breast of duck, but it was at least nicely flavoured. My John Dory, presented as three fillets on a cabbage and bacon bed, was probably the worst main course I've ever had set before me. Rock-hard, overcooked and tasting very far from fresh, it made a depressing sight on the plate. If it hadn't been for Ciara's delightful company, it could well have ruined my evening.

Somewhat dispirited we chose a chocolate dessert between us, which was pleasant enough. We followed this with a couple of coffees and found ourselves the last remaining diners. Shortly afterwards I ordered a second coffee and a bill, but before I'd finished the coffee the waiter asked us if we'd mind leaving now, as he had to set up for breakfast. It was ten past twelve. Since both of us had to work the following day, we were very close to leaving anyway, but somehow I found this request annoying. If Kilkea Castle want to do things by the clock, let me end with this thought: a bill for £104.50 meant a little over £30 an hour, and for that money I'd expect better than this.