An invitation to MIDEM is definitely one to accept, so I did. It's the annual music business conference and it takes place in Cannes at the end of January every year. Because of the peculiar effect of the topography on the Cote d'Azur it's normally a very pleasant temperature, somewhere between 15 and 20 degrees. This fact alone has ensured that music industry executives have always been happy to take a week off and head south for a week of networking in sunnier climes. Cannes itself has made the conference business its primary source of income. Apart from the well-known film festival, it also hosts MIDEM and an annual GSM conference, as well as many other lesser attended events. All of which means that over the year many Irish people will find themselves in this part of France, especially as you can fly from Dublin to Nice direct.

The Cote d'Azur is well served with good restaurants as a flick through the pages of the Michelin guide will attest. Cannes itself has a few, but during conference times everywhere is intensely packed with networkers. If you're prepared to take a small trip into other parts of the Cote d'Azur, let me encourage you visit the picturesque little village of La Turbie. It's perched on a hilltop above Monaco with spectacular views over much of the coast. This dominance was what prompted the Roman emperor Augustus to erect an enormous monument there, known today as the 'Trophee des Alpes'. It served two main purposes, firstly it commemorated his victory over 44 rebellious Ligurian tribes, and secondly it marked the boundary between Italy and Gaul, which even on today's political map is pretty close.

My friend Paul and I drove along the Corniche to the point where Monaco spreads out below in all its high-rise horror, and from here a sinuous road with hairpin bends leads you on ever upwards to La Turbie. The village itself is impossibly pretty, with narrow winding streets and wonderful views. Over the centuries Augustus' monument was used as a handy quarry for cut stone, so much of La Turbie is built from it, leaving only a small part of the original monument intact. Within these quaint streets is the Hostellerie Jerome, a restaurant that deservedly has two coveted Michelin stars.

A modest entrance up stone steps leads into what was once the refectory of a small monastery. It's a high-ceilinged, vaulted room with frescoes, the central part of the room adorned with a painting in what used to be called the 'public art' style of the late nineteenth century, all cherubs and nymphs rising in a crescendo through clouds and blue sky. The main dining room holds some ten tables and there's a small annexe down a few stairs with a few more. Like many of France's good restaurants it has a quiet, professional, almost reverential atmosphere - although this formality is tempered by the charm and all-pervasive enthusiasm of the waiting staff. You get a strong sense in here that they not only enjoy what they do, but that they also want you the customer to enjoy the experience as much as they do.

Dining in Michelin-starred restaurants is never cheap, but Hostellerie Jerome offers two set menus, one at €50 and one at €90, which is the closest you'd get in France to affordable <it>haute cuisine. If you choose to eat off the a la carte then you can reckon on €35 for a starter and between €40 and €50 for a main course. Once you get over that hurdle, there's nothing left to do but enjoy the food. Paul chose the linguini with lobster as a starter and followed that with a truffled risotto served with prawn tails. I'd spotted my intended main course at once, the Limousine calf's sweetbreads with a truffle puree and worked back from there, deciding on the lightest starter I could find, the thinly sliced Ligurian artichoke hearts served with lemon juice and olive oil.

The wine list is long and by Irish standards expensive. It's not that they have cheap wines heavily marked up, it's rather that only very good and expensive wines are on the list. The maitre cum sommelier, a man equally fluent in French, English and Italian, suggested a white Chateau-Neuf-du-Pape '98, which turned out to be a totally felicitous choice for what we had chosen.

After a dainty and tasty amuse bouche of red snapper served with a wild fennel puree, our starters arrived, confirming what we'd guessed - this is a very fine kitchen. Paul's pasta was exactly judged, the lobster pieces that accompanied it cooked to perfection. My plate was a jewel of simplicity, just thinly sliced artichoke hearts with the simplest of dressings, and yet the flavours combined to create a perfect start to a meal.

The main courses continued this gastronomic delight, Paul's truffle risotto pungent and earthy, the freshly sliced Perigord truffles easily smelled from my side of the table. The sweetbreads before me were quite simply wonderful, almost caramelised outside, yet succulent and tender inside. A real delight. We both felt that after such a strongly flavoured and savoury meal, cheese would be a better choice than a dessert, so the cheese trolley was wheeled over. Thirty cheeses to choose from is slightly overwhelming, but once again we relied on our maitre to help with the choosing.

Dining at this level of gastronomy isn't something that you do every day, but on occasion it's good to remind yourself of just what an art form cookery can be. It occurred to us as we finished our wine and coffees that we could add to the list of things that distinguish mankind from other animals. Never mind those old chestnuts of self-consciousness and language, what really sets mankind apart is that we cook.