Here's a thought that been on my mind of late: if something happens once we call it an event. If it happens twice, we call it a coincidence. If it happens three times, I'd suggest that we're looking at a pattern. I mention this, because I spotted a pattern this week - a third event occurred that made me notice it. Firstly I bought a car a few months ago that has a very retro interior and I found myself liking it. Then, a couple of weeks ago I bought an espresso machine for my kitchen, which means I can now get much better espressos at home than I can in Dublin coffee shops. It's called 'Cafe Retro' and I chose it because it's a fine example of retro design. Coincidence? Maybe. But when Marian Kenny suggested to me this week that we could dine in Dalkey's Guinea Pig restaurant, I jumped at it. It's one of those very rare restaurants that's been going for twenty years and gives you a glimpse of how things were. So that's when I realised I'm turning into a retro junkie.

It's hard when I think about it to see why I should harbour this nostalgia for times past. Most of what we get today is better than what we had. Take clothes fashion for example. Will the fashionistas ever get us to embrace Afghan coats, flared trousers, lace shirts and platform soles again? For men? I think not - although I still keep my platform-soled knee-high boots just in case. Food is as much subject to fashion as anything else. Hard to believe, but twenty years ago there was no polenta on Irish menus, I kid you not. No papayas, no sun-dried tomatoes, no espressos, no goat's cheese and you bought olive oil in the chemist's shop. Celto-Med fusion has brought a whole new larder of goodies into our diet.

But there's another big difference. In the retro days we went to eat in restaurants when we were hungry. We expected, and got, big helpings heaped on the plate. Getting a lot of food was part of the perception of value for money. If you were stuffed with food, then it was good value. There's been a shift in perception in this as well. Now a lot of diners eat in restaurants when they're not hungry. They don't expect big helpings, they expect expertly prepared food that titillates the taste buds. We're moving away from quantity as a measure of excellence towards quality, which, in this generally overfed society, is probably a good thing.

I got the feeling that the Guinea Pig is fixed in its eighties roots. It's a comfortable place, there are a couple of dining areas so no matter how busy it is you don't get a sense of crowding. Certainly the low ceilings and the bric-a-brac around the walls gives the place an almost homely feel. Marian and I got a fine large table with padded banquettes on either side and were given our bills of fare. The Guinea Pig describes itself as a fish restaurant, so there's a lot of fish on the menu. What surprised me was the wine list. It's an average length list with a bit over a 100% mark-up, but whereas I would have expected to find considerably more white wines than reds, if anything it seemed that they were marginally outnumbered by the reds. I chose an Ironside Californian Chardonnay at €25 and a bottle of mineral water.

Marian doesn't have a large appetite, so I had to persuade her to have a starter as well as a main course. She chose from the a la carte menu, while I picked from the early-bird dinner menu, which is very fairly priced at €20 and unusually runs right up to 8 o'clock. Marian started with goat's cheese in a sesame crust, while I chose the sea-food chowder. To follow she picked the catch of the day, which was black sole served as 'fish and chips' and I had the steamed mussels.

We settled into the wine and the bread and decided that big, sock-you-in-the-mouth Chardonnays, like the one we had in our glasses, are losing their appeal. Even that fashion is coming to an end. The starters arrived and I got a really good, thick, meaty chowder placed in front of me. I dived in with relish and then noticed Marian picking unenthusiastically at her goat's cheese. I could see her point. The sesame seed casing was hard and the cheese inside was grey, bitter in flavour, and powdery. Unchivalrously I told her how good my chowder was and reminded her that she hadn't really wanted a starter anyway.

The main courses arrived and once again I got the better of the deal. A huge bowl of steaming mussels was before me, it smelled good and tasted good. Maybe it was the size of her portion that put Marian off, but once again she was picking unenthusiastically at her plate. I do think crumbing and deep-frying black sole is a bit of a waste, it's such a good fish. Cooking it like this doesn't really let the fish express its subtle flavours and this particular dish was, to my taste, overcooked. There were three fillets of sole on the plate - Marian ate one, I ate the other and one remained on the plate.

Perhaps we didn't both eat well, but it's also true that the restaurant was very full on a Tuesday night, so clearly Mervin Stuart is doing something right. I liked the fact that he comes out of the kitchen and goes around the tables later in the evening, something chef-proprietors always used to do in days of yore. Not one of the better meals I've had of late, but the early-bird menu is good value - especially if you're hungry. The bill was €80.50.