Who loves ya, baby?

I took my godson to dinner at Bistro One in Foxrock and, considering it was his first night out in a restaurant - he is only nine-weeks-old - the evening went off beautifully. Babies and bistros don't usually go together in my book but, thanks to William's immaculate behaviour and our waitress declaring on the spot that she loved babies, we found ourselves relaxing fast.

We had been expecting a formal sort of place, having been asked to arrive at 8.15 sharp, ahead, we thought, of a large group, but in fact the restaurant was almost empty when we got there and remained delightfully quiet all evening.

As I write this in the office, a colleague is busy ringing around Dublin trying to get a table for four for Saturday night. It's the usual story: everywhere booked solid and some of the people answering the phones quite offhand, as though only an ass would think they had a free table at five days' notice. Come the recession we'll have our own back on them but, in the meantime, people, for heaven's sake start going out midweek. It is so much easier.

We chose Bistro One because it was close to base for the new parents, Sarah and Richard, so that they could dash home if William didn't like the ambience. It is above a row of shops in Foxrock Village, and the entrance is so discreet that you could easily miss it. Inside, too, it is surprisingly low-key. In fact it's a bit dingy.

You climb a steep stairs, past walls that need a lick of paint, and boxes of wine stacked up on the landing, before coming into a big room with check table clothes and faded gingham lampshades swinging overhead. Not what you expect in Foxrock. With so many million-pound mansions around, I imagined the local restaurant would be extremely plush, and full of well-groomed ladies wearing angora jumpers and leather trousers. But no, all was peace and quiet, which could have been a disaster if, say, we were taking the boss out to dinner, or entertaining difficult clients, but the ambience suited us just fine.

We were greeted by a remarkably friendly young Frenchman who seated us in a corner of the room - not Siberia, but just off the centre of things, and with enough empty space around us for William to be moved about it. Richard needed a drink, having flown from Boston that morning and dropped off in London en route; so did David, and soon they were lorrying into pints, which improved the mood all round. Sarah and I stuck to white wine, ordering a bottle of Sancerre, which we felt we deserved.

The menu is printed on a single piece of card with prices presented in punts with no pence. This is a deceptively cheap and cheery approach and it takes a while to realise that it's actually quite an expensive menu. Starters range from £4 to £7, while main courses are from £11 to £18.

It took us ages to read the menu and the blackboard of specials because everything sounded good. In some restaurants you can look at a menu over and over again and still not find a single thing that you would like to eat. Here, though, we all liked the sound of everything.

The bread basket had soft, nutty, sweet brown bread on one side and heavy, white, freshly-made rolls on the other, and both were so good that you didn't need to slather them in butter.

David started with calamari from the blackboard and got a big plate with the calamari, as big as curtain rings, stacked all around. These were exactly as they should be: crisp on the outside, tender inside, the way it is almost impossible to find them on holiday in a fishing village, where you're assured that the squid has just about jumped from the sea into the deep-fat fryer.

My smoked haddock fish cake was a substantial thing, padded out with potato and moistened with parsley butter, and it was tasty and comforting. Richard thoroughly enjoyed his black pudding, which came in a neat little tower layered with apple slices, while Sarah was guarding her parcel of crabmeat and rice noodles. It came rather like a big spring roll, but cut down the middle so you could see the ingredients inside.

I dithered over the liver and kidneys with rosti, or deep fried fish and chips as a main course - both £11 - but ended up choosing the braised lamb shank. This was perfectly-cooked, with the meat falling off the bone, and an incredibly densely flavoured sauce. This is the kind of dish that I long to be able to make at home but just don't have the know-how. It was superb.

Sarah's roast crispy duck with its apricot stuffing was terrifically good, she said - crisped without being charred. Richard and David chose plaice and monkfish respectively, and got beautifully arranged plates of perfectly-cooked fish with light, creamy sauces. Richard is picky about food, as he's entitled to be having been through a nasty operation recently, but he was genuinely impressed by it all, including the perfectly plain green beans that he requested as a nod in the roughage direction.

We absolutely didn't need dessert but the waitress urged us to try something. "Go on, go on. Sure aren't I an advertisement for them?" she said, laughing and slapping her hips. We gave in and had one each. Richard and David had textbook creme brulee with red fruit sorbets; Sarah had something deeply rich and chocolatey; while I demolished a slice of perfectly good almond tart.

The coffee was advertised as freshly-ground and by Pellini, whoever they are. I liked it, but Sarah found it bitter.

William shot up in our estimation by not uttering a sound all evening and allowing us to a have a very good time. The wine flowed a bit too freely - we had three bottles - and our bill was almost £200, including service and lots of mineral water. A more moderate lot could dine well here for about £30 a head.

Bistro One, Foxrock Village, Dublin 18 - phone (01) 2897711. Dinner Tuesday to Saturday. Open for Christmas Eve lunch.