It's a funny thing: twenty-five years ago, before the M11, before there were any by-passes, it took me between fifty minutes and an hour to get to Dublin from Annamoe. Today, with all the new roads and by-passes, it takes me between fifty minutes and an hour. I not sure why this is so, but it might be the proliferation of traffic lights which exactly balances the time saved on the by-passes with the time wasted at red lights. What has changed though, is that Dublin feels closer. Twenty-five years ago Annamoe was really in the sticks, today it's considered commutable and the road to Kilnacanogue has become very busy. But Dublin's shadow does come to an end eventually; the further south you travel, the less you feel its influence. By Rathdrum it's remote - go further south again and it feels as far away as Kerry.

By the time you get to Aughrim, you know you're well outside the Pale. That extra forty minutes drive puts it well outside the daily commute, which gives the town the traditional feel of a community untouched by the capital's influence. I came to Aughrim to meet my friend Julia Kennedy, who has been exhorting me to try The Stonecutter, a cafe cum deli next to the cut-stone monument commemorating 1798 in the middle of Aughrim. I got there before Julia and found that she's reserved a table for us right next to the cut granite fireplace, which was blazing welcomingly with big logs. It's not a big room, there are only seven tables, but I was struck with the quality of what was there; there was good cutlery, good glassware, some interesting oils on the wall, and importantly, an interesting menu. Large windows ensure that you can see whatever happens on the road and pavement outside.

Maybe it's no more than urban prejudice, but I was surprised to find such a modern menu in the wilds of Wicklow. Here's a few of the dishes: chicken liver parfait with warm sourdough bread, rocket and caramelised red onions; a roast duck salad with red onion, caramelised apple and a balsamic dressing, and grilled salmon on baby leeks with a tomato Arborio rice risotto. Not your average provincial fare.

The wine list is really easy to navigate - there's a white wine and a red wine. Both are perfectly acceptable offerings from Santa Rita, and Julia had a glass of the Chardonnay. They also sell a beer, Moretti, which is what I drink in Italy during the summer, so I had a bottle of that. If you want, you can bring your own wine and pay the very modest corkage of €6.50.

Some very good bread arrived at the table, along with small slices of pizza and a dip that was composed of hummus, tahini, lemon juice, olive oil and garlic, which was delicious and augured well for the meal to come. Julia decided on the steamed mussels to start, which was a large bowl heaped with mussels sitting in a sauce of tomato, chilli, garlic and coriander. I had the squid salad, which was served on a bed of green leaves and Asian noodles. The squid was tasty, if a little tough, but Julia's mussels were excellent - the sauce was a real winner and I found myself dipping my bread into Julia's sauce.

These were both very large portions, especially the mussels, so we found ourselves approaching our main courses with a diminished appetite. Julia had chosen the fresh cod, which was served with a potato rosti, baby leeks and a chive cream, while I'd picked the leg of lamb chop, which was chargrilled and served with roast baby beetroot, rocket and a green bean salad. Both of these were well made dishes and over the course of the meal I got the impression that there was someone in the kitchen who cared about the raw ingredients.

It's not in the big things that this manifests itself, but rather in the details. Good bread, really fresh and varied salad leaves, and rocket that actually tasted of rocket rather than simply looking like it. 'The chef here cut his teeth in Patrick Guilbaud's', Julia told me. That explained much. It explained the attention to detail, it explained the skills. Later, as we lingered over a couple of properly made espressos, he came out of the kitchen and made his rounds of the tables, introducing himself as Brian Murray. If you should ever come here and get the opportunity to talk to him after your meal, you'll be well rewarded if you listen to his philosophy of food. He exudes passion and erudition in equal measures. It turns out that many if his ingredients are locally sourced, he's careful to use what's in season and to use Irish produce whenever possible. That's not simple chauvinist nationalism; it ensures that the food on your plate has travelled the least possible to get there.

He said something that's worth quoting: 'Lots of people can cook with the same skill that I do, but there are few who can do it better.' I liked that; it's as honest as his cooking. It's also true - the fact is that care and passion are the mainstays of a good kitchen, and those qualities are in the Stonecutter in spades. The bill for the evening came to €84.20 , which is not much more than 50 of our old pounds. Put it like that and you see it's value for money as well as good food.