There's not much between Dublin and Belfast, at least not in miles. A bit more than a hundred miles and that's it - much less than between Rome and Milan. Yet it's different. Sometimes I think it might be no more than the street furniture - red pillar boxes and different telephone kiosks, smooth roads and cats' eyes. The terrain itself looks much the same, the same green fields and hedges, the same damp look to everything this wet summer. I remembered hearing a story once about Brendan Behan being stopped by a guard somewhere near Carrickmacross, crawling along a boreen on his hands and knees with his nose close to the asphalt. When the guard asked him what he was doing, he replied 'Looking for the border.' Unlike the Great Wall of China which you can see from space, borders are simply not there - except on maps.

As my wife and I drove along the southern edge of Belfast Lough towards Hollywood we were both struck by the almost manic neatness of it all. Litter? No sign of any. Crisply painted shop-fronts and houses, manicured privet hedges and pavements with no hazardous cracks and holes - all this make you realise you really are somewhere almost foreign. It's amazing, too, how quickly we get used to things. I've been out of this country a few times this year and haven't had to change money, yet now I'm a couple of hours from home and my money's being rejected; yet another sign of otherness.

We were on our way to meet our friends Donnell and Alison Deeney, who live overlooking the lough. Ships seem to ply these waters ceaselessly, while planes take a flight-path over the lough on their way in and out of Belfast City airport. But it wasn't the trains and boats and planes that summoned song to mind; on the opposite side of the water was Carrickfergus. Donnell had suggested that we go to Shanks, 'the best restaurant north of the Liffey' was his verdict and that sounded like recommendation enough to me. Seeing as we were the visitors - and anyway he knew the way - we piled into Donnell's fancy new motor and set off for Bangor. While we drove I got to play with the wonderland of gadgets the car was equipped with, until the others told me to 'stop messing, Paolo'. I played with the parking radar, the television (four stations) and the global satellite positioning system, where you punch in your destination and the on-board computer tells you which road to take. Such fun.

Shanks can be found on the Clandeboy Estate, home of the Marchioness of Dufferin and Ava, which is near Bangor. It's part of the Blackwood golf centre, which under normal circumstances would fill me with a deep sense of foreboding. However, architecturally it's very pleasing and the restaurant is on two floors, an upper storey where you can sit, order a drink and peruse the menus, and the ground floor which is the dining room. One wall is made up of large picture windows, through which you can see the manicured grounds of the golf course. The room has been designed by Terence Conran, so there's an uncluttered feel, although it's by no means minimalist. I eyed the plain wooden chairs surrounding the tables and imagined an impending evening of discomfort, but curiously, hard though they were, they remained comfortable throughout our protracted sit.

Bearing in mind that this is a Michelin-starred restaurant a look down the wine list doesn't leave you panicking. There are plenty of wines priced at under £20 as well as wines for those with deeper pockets. It's weighted towards the French classics, but it's a long enough list to give some good representation to Italy, Australia and California as well. Eventually we settled on the Madfish Chardonnay from Australia as our white, and an excellent St. Joseph from Paul Jaboulet for the red, at £20.50 and £25 respectively.

While we struggled to make our choices from the menu, the most wonderful breads were presented, my favourite being the mustard one. No doubt, bread like this sets you up for the delicacies to come. The menu is a set price, £38, and there's a choice of six starters, seven main courses and six desserts, with an added lobster special for the main course on the night. Between us we chose two confit of duck, lobster with truffled macaroni and pan-fried foie gras for me. All these dishes were immaculate, as indeed was the service throughout the evening.

For main courses both Donnell and Alison had chosen the lobster special, which I got to taste, Susie had picked the monkfish and I had the Barbary duck which was served very pink and was perfectly delicious. There's no doubt that Robbie Millar, the chef-proprietor, is a very talented chef. And once again the thought occurred that although nearly €60 per head isn't cheap, to get a meal of this quality in the Republic would cost considerably more.

Perhaps our appetites weren't as sharp as they might have been when time came for desserts, but we did manage a couple of crème brulee, something of a speciality here, and some exquisite lavender ice-cream. To my delight there was really good coffee as well in the form of a well-made espresso, so I finished the meal in Shanks with one of those really rare occurrences, a perfect score on each course.

What I haven't yet mentioned, and it needs to be said, is that the atmosphere in this restaurant combines comfort, ease and good food with a sense of fun. This is not one of those cathedrals to cuisine with an air of reverential deference, but a vibrant and buzzy place that makes eating out the sort of pleasure it's supposed to be. With three bottles of wine the bill came to £263 for the four of us.