Food snobs like me, or to be more exact people with European cultural prejudices, tend to wrinkle their precious noses in disdain when mention is made of American food. It's an understandable bigotry; in a country so vast and so populous it's strange that you really need to look hard to find good food. Obviously it's there, it's just not prevalent. What you get in abundance is what we've imported over here - Wendy's, McDonalds and Burger King, populist junk food that doesn't even try to be anything other than fast. When you think about it, a food style that sells itself on the basis of its speed isn't really much of a recommendation. 'How was your lunch, sir?' 'Fabulous, thank you, the quickest I've ever had.'

I do know that that's not all American food has to offer. The entire city of New Orleans is an exception to the norm, it's a place where good food and real coffee can be got, but let's face it, it's not typical. It's not your archetypal American food. But there's something that the Americans can teach us when it comes to food and it's not haute cuisine; what they can teach us is how to take a simple idea and do it well. No complications, no complexities, just the core, just the beef. And talking of beef, that's what they do well. There are steak houses in New York whose window displays look like butchers' shops, steaks hanging like garlands to tempt passers by, arrays of dark pink marbled flesh in slabs of nothing less than 12 ounces - whole windows filled with them. Nothing girlie about that: it's big, brash, uncomplicated and very carnivore.

So what do you get if you take that simple idea of an American-style steakhouse and transpose it to Ireland? You get Shanahan's on the Green. But wait, then you add another ingredient, you add plush. Lots of it. Stylish Georgian rooms in a grand old Dublin house on Stephen's Green restored and renovated with lots of money. Then what you end up with is uncomplicated food served in plush surroundings, and as a concept it works well. What was especially nice about this week is that for once I was the guest, this time of Gayle Killilea, or as she is also known, 'The Blonde'. We arrived in Shanahan's just after eight and went downstairs to the 'Oval Office' bar where such memorabilia as JFK's rocking chair can be found. It's an interesting mix of themed Americana and Irish Georgian. After a pre-prandial drink of mineral water we were shown to our table, on the first floor by the window, overlooking the Green and the passers by.

The menu is straightforward; starters are all about €20 and main courses about €40, so this isn't cheap dining. To compensate for your spent money you are however sat in a prettily proportioned room, with big tables and heavy, starched napery; large padded chairs, quality crockery and tableware; and attentive and professional service. There's another plus to this formula: once you've established that your guests like meat, you can relax in the knowledge that the chances of the food being under par are almost nil, an important consideration if you've business guests to entertain. Actually, there's fish as well - John Dory, scallops and Dover sole - but the main thrust of its menu and the signature dishes are meats. And these are not steaks for wimps, oh no sirree, they're not. A 24 ounce rib-eye steak would satisfy the hungriest man, an 18 ounce striploin a slightly less famished one. Even the 'petite filet' weighs in at half a pound.

The beef that Shanahan's prides itself on is all Irish Angus, and the entire production is to high standards, from the feeding of the cattle to the ageing of the meat. The menu also tells you about the broiler that cooks the steaks at a temperature of 1800 degrees, a temperature higher than an Irish midsummer midday, that sears the outside of the meat keeping it moist and juicy inside. To accompany your main courses, side orders come at €8.50 and we chose creamed spinach and whipped potatoes.

Gayle started with the sautéed shrimp, crustacea that were far larger than you'd have guessed from their name and I began with half a dozen native oysters. There were other seafood starters; all good, plain, simple dishes entirely in keeping with the overall theme of simplicity. This menu underscores a great culinary truth: if you start with the finest quality ingredients then you don't need to do a lot of cooking to make a successful dish; the food will speak for itself.

There's something bold, brash and rather charming about the presentation. Your bread comes not in some prissy little wicker trug and a slicelet per person, instead there's a loaf on a board with a breadknife on the table. Okay, it's not a big loaf, but it's not a portion controlled mean slice either. The steaks are Texan big, the prawns were huge, the oysters fat: everything is bigger, fatter, richer, crisper than what we Europeans are used to. It's the embodiment of the American dream, for God's sake, the biggest and the best of everything, the very concept that makes mainland Europeans wince - so uncouth, so uncultured. Yet in this room, with its décor that estate agents would describe as 'well-appointed' it works well. We completely finished our respective steaks, Gayle her petite filet and me my filet mignon, which came with the spinach and mash in little copper pots, both excellent.

Gayle had chosen a delicious Barolo to go with our steaks; full, rich, tannic and complex, it tasted like an expensive wine. When I looked at the wine list I saw that it was indeed expensive. €98 in fact. But then as I continued through the list I realised that it's not that easy to find a wine for under €30; there are only two, a rose and a Muscadet. Taking the 'Interesting Reds' section from this long list as an example, the average price works out at over €100 a bottle for the 22 wines listed, so the €98 Barolo was below average price. You could spend a lot of money here, no doubt.

Two desserts; a soufflé for me and ice-cream with chocolate sauce for Gayle finished the meal. A good meal, delightful surroundings, and a warm glow of pleasure that I wasn't paying the bill.