I've always enjoyed the city of Kilkenny. It has the feel of a city much bigger than it actually is and there's a sense of cosmopolitan society that goes back at least as long as I've known the place. I was walking along John Street, a watery sun casting warming rays on my back, peeking into a huge variety of shops selling curios and bric-a-brac, when I came across the Wine Cellar. I'm attracted to wine shops much in the same way that bees are attracted to honey and my feet had taken me across the threshold into the shop before I'd even made a decision to do it. I've seen a lot of wine shops in my life, but this one is pretty impressive. Not only is it well laid out, it's very big. The shop goes back and back and there are some really tempting offers, especially some classed Burgundies from the 80s, which might just be still good enough to drink. I spent at least half an hour browsing the shelves and could easily have spent half an hour more.

Right across the road from here my eye was drawn to a sign that my poor eyesight read as 'Shorty Wongs'. This conjured up all kinds of bizarre images, but as I crossed the road I read it more clearly - 'Shortis Wong', a discreet little sign read. Inside it was an Aladdin's cave of Asian wonders, the smell of spice permeating the air, the shelves stacked with delicacies and goodies that would have tempted anyone to buy them. I walked out some fifteen minutes later with a bottle of hot chilli sauce, some wasabi and a bottle of soy sauce. If I'd had a bearer with me I could happily have bought a lot more stuff.

This is exactly the sort of activity that brings on an appetite, and since lunch time was fast approaching we needed to make a decision. 'Do you want to eat here in Kilkenny town or can I suggest somewhere a little different?' asked Isobel Smith. 'Somewhere different might be nice', I answered and so off we set for Bennetsbridge and the River Cafe. London and the Thames may have its River Cafe, but Bennetsbridge and the River Nore has one too. Coming from Kilkenny you go over the glorious stone bridge that I presume is Bennet's, and there on the other side of the Nore is the River Cafe. You really can't miss it, it has the word 'CAFE' writ very large outside. Although it's physically very close to the river, you can't actually see it from the cafe.

There are times, especially like this particular lunchtime, when all you really require is a simple snack. For the most part this isn't something that's terribly well catered for. There are pubs where you get a sandwich to go with your beer, there are take-aways that can supply you with a burger and chips, but if you want any sort of marginally more sophisticated a snack, it's not so readily found. It's this gap in the market that the River Cafe fills - simple and unpretentious.

We arrived in good time to meet up with Paul McGrath and Isobel's son, Karl, who had come from Thomastown. Inside the décor's very simple; a counter by the window with some stools, a few small tables around the room and a raised booth where we sat. A big counter displays the home-made quiches and pies and the wherewithal for filling sandwiches. A blackboard in the corner carries the daily specials. Unlike the London River Cafe, which is a restaurant, this River Cafe is actually closer to being a cafe, which I've always mentally equated with the now vanished 'snack bar'. The menu contains things like a 'full Irish breakfast' which is served all day long and costs €7.95, there's home made soup, ciabattas filled with a variety of things - chicken, cheese and onion, roasted vegetables, ham or even a steak filling. Pitta breads have similar fillings and there are salads as well; a classic Caesar, a blue cheese salad, a Greek salad, and a ham salad. Nearly everything on this menu is priced under €10, the majority of plates priced between €6 and €9.

There's a section marked 'for the bigger appetites', which I scanned. A Thai chicken curry, a goats' cheese omelette, a sirloin steak and the very Belgian sounding mussels and chips. There are a few pizzas as well, and Karl picked a tomato, cheese and mushroom one. Paul settled on a club sandwich while Isobel and I both chose the cheese and bacon omelette. A few soft drinks all round and our lunch was ordered.

It's a busy place. There was an almost constant flow of people pulling up outside, buying something to take away or sitting down to eat. Soon enough we had our meals in front of us, a pizza that made Karl happy, a perfectly enormous sandwich stuffed to overflowing for Paul and the omelettes for Isobel and me. Simple things, omelettes, but of all simple things an omelette has the biggest range of quality. From the hard, overcooked monstrosities to creamy, velvety perfections there's a lot of mediocre omelettes filling the in between space. These two were completely perfect and as far as I was concerned, it made the drive to Bennetsbridge worth it. The bill was just under €32, which felt exactly right for what we'd had. A tourist stumbling upon the River Cafe would find one of the few stops in the country where the prices would seem reasonable, almost in line with what you'd pay for a road-side stop on the continent. And that's about as rare as the proverbial hens' teeth.