If I hear the phrase 'unsettled weather' much more I think I'll emigrate. What's unsettled about it? It seems remarkably settled to me - every day since early May has been exactly the same - grey, overcast and rainy. Okay, some days have been windier than others, some have been a bit colder and some slightly wetter, but it's been pretty settled weather. Every now and then I watch a weather forecast, desperately hoping to see some sign of high pressure approaching us, but no, 'it'll be unsettled for the rest of the week.' These meteorologists use words in a very different way from the rest of us, and it's not just that word 'unsettled.' I love the phrase 'rain will clear to showers' or the variant I heard the other night 'rain will clear to drizzle.' This is using the word 'clear' in hitherto never considered ways.

So as it cleared to a gentle drizzle, the temperature dipped below ten degrees and a thick mist settled over the Wicklow Hills in a summery sort of way, my wife and I set off for the lakeland of Blessington, known around here as Blessingtown. Fog lamps and windscreen wipers helped us over the Wicklow Gap on this particular June evening as we set off for Tulfarris House. Twenty years ago when I had my restaurant in Wicklow it had just opened, but of course I was never able to try it, since I was minding my own shop at the time. Still, better late than never.

Tulfarris has a very imposing drive lined with muscular and sinuous beeches. It passes through the golf course, which is now an integral part of Tulfarris. Maybe it's just me that isn't good at reading signs, but we drove around for quite a while past a variety of buildings, out-buildings and car parks waiting for a sign saying 'restaurant' to leap out of the mist at us. Possibly there was one that I never noticed, but eventually we entered the old house where there's a bar. We got directions to the 'new hotel' which was one of the buildings I'd already passed a couple of times. It's the sort of building that brings out the architectural snob in me; a long, low, two-storey 'L' shaped edifice with vague pretensions to Georgiana. A break front marks the entrance, which has the most curious of features, a totally bald expanse of masonry above the upper windows of this section. Quite what its purpose might be I can't even guess, but an aesthetic addition it isn't.

The same not-quite-Georgian feel comes as you enter; a flight of stairs leads you upstairs to the restaurant, a faux-Georgian <it>grand escalier</it>, with risers just a bit too high and steps a bit too narrow. It's exactly the sort of design that makes me despair of architects. Following the signs for 'Restaurant' - finally I found some - you arrive in a long room that overlooks the golf course. This much is like Shanks of last week, but the interior designers here have gone for a Victorian look. Flat-pack Korean Vikky chairs of the Sheraton style surround the tables and there's a couple of sideboards topped with over-mantel mirrors, so basically you've got a sort of 'K' club atmosphere without the antiques. We sat by the windows and would have had a view across the golf course to the rolling, low hills and the lake - if it wasn't for the mist.

All right, you've guessed, I'm not totally comfortable in clubby surroundings, but you do get the sense here that they're trying. Dinner is a set price, €40 per person, which might seem steep until you notice that there's five courses and coffee included in the price. No extra charges for bread, vegetables and so on - that's the price you pay and I do like the transparency of that.

The wine list is of a reasonable length and is fairly priced, but it's a list from only one supplier. It's not something I tend to go on about, but a list brought in wholesale like this leaves you with the feeling that no one is devoting much thought or energy to the list. It seems like an accountant's solution, not a restaurateur's. Running a wine list from several specialist suppliers takes more effort, is time-consuming and is at times awkward, but it does show that there's an interest in the wine list other than a commercial one. From it I picked out the Louis Latour Chardonnay, well priced at €21.59.

Bread and a jug of iced water arrived without asking, something I would dearly like to see more of. For starters Susie had picked salmon goujons, which were small slices of salmon crumbed and deep-fried, while I'd chosen the venison sausage. Both of these dishes were competently done and well-flavoured. I had the urge for the soup course, something I rarely do, and I chose the beef consomme, which turned out to be a good choice. Next we were both served an orange sorbet, good too, but not as palate-cleansing as the more traditional lemon one.

For our main courses Susie had chosen brill, which came nicely presented and was a generous portion. I'd picked the beef fillet which was oddly uneven - one end chewy and the other end tender. Most unusual. A selection of vegetables came with this as well as potatoes, which left neither of us very hungry by the end of it. Still, after a small hiatus I had the cheese board selection, which was probably one of the most generous I've seen. There was no espresso to be had, so we sipped the last of our wine to end the meal.

A slightly old-fashioned menu then, competently done if a little unimaginative. It struck me that this is exactly the sort of restaurant you could take an older relation to, especially one who complains about modern food fashions. A bill for €105.59 doesn't seem excessive for the meal we'd eaten.