Here's a thought: when you go out for a meal you're not going out to eat. Obtaining food for the belly is not your primary purpose, because if it was, a sandwich at home would do the trick. You go out for a meal because you want a change from home cooking, because you want to impress your lady, because it's a celebration, because you're with some boring business men from Lower Saxony and you can't bear to bring their bad jokes and lederhosen-slapping humour home, or it's maybe because you want to eat something you can't cook for yourself. You don't go to a restaurant because your starving - no one starves any more in Europe, we're overfed to the point of anorexia. Eating may be a part of what you do in restaurants, but their primary purpose is to entertain and restore you to a sense of well-being. A restaurant is not a canteen.

Assuming that this analysis is accurate, then it follows that what you should be getting is not quantity, but quality - tastes of wonderful things and many of them, not big dollops of mash. It's an idea that's becoming more prevalent in Ireland as we dine out more and more frequently, but it's hardly a novel concept on the continent. And for this ideal meal you'll also need attentive service and a comfortable place to sit. I list these elements because they form a combination that I rarely encounter - maybe once or twice a year.

This dream combination happened this week in an entirely surprising way. My wife and I had gone to meet old friends Paul and Marie Harvey in Dublin and Paul suggested that the Queens in Dalkey would make a useful half-way house for us to meet up in. Now I'm as susceptible as anyone else to prejudices, and I have one about restaurants above pubs, which is that frequently they don't work. Paul had suggested that we eat upstairs in the Vico and I was happy enough to do that, but in truth my expectations for the quality of the food weren't high.

Upstairs you find yourself in piano bar, which came to life later in the evening. Beyond that lies the bar counter and beyond that a quietly comfortable dining room. Not flash, not trendy, just easy to sit in. Well-spaced tables and comfortable chairs and banquettes made sitting a pleasure and soft and subtle lighting added to our sense of ease. From the well-chosen wine list Paul picked out the excellent Crozes Hermitage 'Les Jalets' 2000 from Jaboulet and a real treat, the Chardonnay from the Hamilton Russell winery in South Africa.

For once I'm going to tell you about the food in detail, because it deserves analysis. When you pick up the menu the first thing you notice is its inventiveness. Most of starters are priced around the €9 mark and include seabass tails with vanilla risotto and fennel sorbet; pressed terrine of foie gras and filo pastry with a pear and vanilla puree; a mille feuille of red mullet gravadlax; and lime-roasted vine tomatoes with glazed goats cheese. Sounds good? For once a menu lived up to its promises - our starters were sublime.

Before they arrived we were served an amuse bouche of perfectly cooked fish - tiny, but redolent of joys to come. Susie and Marie then settled into their Parma ham which came with seasoned pistachio nuts and a watermelon shot. Unusual and effective. Paul had the foie gras which was beautifully presented while I was enthralled by my seabass tails.

Next a plate arrived at the table on which were four spoons, each with a tiny pastille of passionfruit jelly, probably the best palate cleanser I've ever eaten. So with three extraordinary dishes eaten, the main courses were still to come. We'd had difficulty choosing the main courses, there wasn't one that didn't sound delicious, but everyone eventually chose the turbot which was the day's special, except for me who picked the wild rabbit. I've been trying for twenty-five years to cook wild rabbit, but it always comes out tough. What I got was a chef's tour de force, three pieces each cooked differently: a tiny roasted rack perfectly trimmed, a rolled loin and a haunch. It was triumph of culinary techniques. The turbot was as perfectly cooked as could be, with a complimenting sauce and vegetables creatively presented.

This was the meal after which you could died and gone to heaven. The thought of dessert was far from my mind - but then I read the dessert menu. How can you resist things like cola jelly, mint syrup, poached sweet tomatoes with lemon curd, and the one I had to have - a selection that included smoked bacon ice-cream? That's no mis-print, and it was surprisingly good, as was the avocado ice-cream I picked at from Marie's plate.

It takes more than good food to make a meal this memorable. Here the service was professional, attentive and friendly - a difficult combination to achieve. It also made me realise the value of a good maitre d', a profession that seems to be disappearing in Dublin restaurants. Our maitre was the epitome of hosting skills. And if you're wondering why you haven't yet heard of this wonderful food, it's because the Vico has recently obtained the services of Stephen McAllister, a young and very gifted chef about whom we'll no doubt be hearing a lot more in the future. Our bill came to €263.05 including expensive wines, so for value for money, you couldn't do better.