My son seems to have inherited certain character traits from me. For example, he cares deeply about his food, both cooking it and eating it. He also enjoys his physical comfort and has been adept since infancy at finding the cosiest place to sit and rest. I can't help but recognise these traits, since they're as much mine as his.

Over the last year he's been cajoling me to visit L' Gueuleton, a restaurant that serves robust French provincial food, something that we both enjoy. My problem with this was a simple one: L' Gueuleton doesn't take reservations. The system works like this; you arrive, you ask for a table, they tell you there will be one available in an hour or two, they take your mobile number and call you when a table is free. If you live in Dublin and don't mind spending an hour or two in a pub, this system works just fine. If like me you don't live in Dublin, then a trip to the capital on the off chance of a table isn't immediately attractive. As a result, despite the fact that other reviewers have sung its praises, I haven't been until this week.

Rocco is determined enough when it comes to food he enjoys. I had mentioned to him that I would have liked to go there, and so being in the area he'd managed to book us a table before I left the Wicklow Hills. My reservations thus assuaged, I set off to meet him for our dinner together.

L' Gueuleton has recently doubled in size by the simple expedient of opening up next door in an exact mirror image of the original. Despite this increase in capacity, it's still very, very busy and it's just as hard as ever to get a table. Clearly they're doing something right, or people wouldn't be voting with their feet. The two rooms are separated by the service area, one side of which is the bar, the other side is the kitchen open to view. The tables and chairs are closely set and are made simply of wood. The ceiling is high and is patterned by deep wooden squares, the lighting is low and night-lites glimmer on each table.

The menu is one page and is arranged with savoury dishes at the top and desserts at the bottom. That means you have to decide for yourself what is a starter and what is a main course. Because Rocco had been several times before he knew exactly what he was going to pick. I wasn't in the same boat, but I'd heard from many people that the snail and Roquefort pitivier was sensational. So our order went like this: the paté of chicken liver and foie gras followed by the ribeye steak with Béarnaise for Rocco, the snail pitivier and the braised ray wing for me.

There's a shortish wine list with house wines priced at €18, followed by a section of expensive wines of the grand cru variety, followed by the ordinary whites and reds which are priced mostly in upper twenties. Since Rocco doesn't drink wine, the choice was made easily to have a couple of beers instead. They have Krombacher on draught, and two glasses each were charged at €12.
We were well pleased with our starters; Rocco's paté came in a miniature marmite and two slices of thick brown toast came with it. It was a generous portion of paté, and the toast ran out long before the paté. I thought my starter was sensational, the pitivier was presented as three small deep-fried parcels with snail filling, topped off with melted Roquefort. The taste explosion in the mouth was quite remarkable. It came with a few salad leaves that might have benefited from a little dressing.

After this Rocco was presented with a fine sized piece of beef, covered with a well-made and tasty Béarnaise sauce. Apart from the beef his plate was piled high with probably the best pommes frites or chips that I've tasted since I was last in France. It seemed that I'd managed to get the very last portion of ray wing, which didn't turn out to be as lucky as I would have hoped. I'd chosen this fish dish because I wanted something light and not filling. Unfortunately for me, my piece of ray was so overcooked that it fell asunder into its component strips of tissue, soggy and almost completely tasteless. Along with that, my potatoes were like little lumps of rock, which I suppose we could describe as a contrast in textures. I consoled myself with the thought that probably all the other portions served that night had been perfectly cooked.

The desserts did look very tempting, there were classics like a fondant Belle Helene, crème caramel and crepes Suzette and they were mostly priced around €7. Despite the temptation that the nostalgia for these dishes bring, we ended up ordering two espressos each which were pretty good. I also asked for a glass of mineral water, which was charged at €3.50.

Apart from my main course, this was a very good meal served in a buzzy atmosphere. The waiting staff were quick and efficient, but I did think that a fifth person on the floor would have improved things somewhat in a very full restaurant. The bill for the night came to €77.95, which is reasonable enough, but if you were to have a bottle of wine and desserts as well you'd be unlikely to be out for under €100 for three courses.