After entertaining a new dining companion at Restaurant Ten Fourteen, Ernie Whalley recommends you have what she was having

At first she was smiling, eyes half closed. Then a discreet smirk of pleasure lit her face as if she was indulging in a happy dream. Appreciative noises modulated to a crescendo, "Mmm, mmm, mmm," and somehow segued into "Yes, yes, yes!" Oh my God, I thought, she's having a Meg Ryan moment. But she's not faking it!

Mind you, the crab claws were bloody good. They couldn't have been fresher if they'd crawled down the coast road and given themselves up. The Not Quite Blonde was out to relish every last morsel. My ballotine of beef, good as it was, seemed mundane by comparison: close but no G-spot.

Restaurant Ten Fourteen (or is it 1014?) stands on the seafront at Clontarf, near the upmarket Indian restaurant, Kinara. But for the lack of a Gitanes cloud you could be back in a Paris bistro in the heyday of Les Halles. The mosaic floor and brass lamps with their clustered globes put me in mind also of the temperance bar in Douglas, Isle of Man, where my father and his cronies used to gather on holiday Sunday evenings, forced to drink sarsaparilla and dandelion-and- burdock by the vagaries of the licensing laws. 'Retro' and 'comfy' are the best words to describe the ambience.

In the open-to-view kitchen a chef of reassuring girth was sweating away, accompanied by a couple of acolytes. Given that the place was packed, it seemed like a hard station. My immediate thought was that these guys were working their tripes off, manpower pruned to a minimum so the business could be kept lean, fit and profitable through these indigent times.

The restaurant has an interesting raison d'être. It's owned by CASA -- the Caring and Sharing Association -- a voluntary organisation, whose goal is to develop social outlets for people with disabilities. Originally CASA had intended to run a coffee shop on these premises; after some discussion, plans were up-scaled and a bistro, majoring in local and fresh produce, replaced the original concept.

While The Not Quite Blonde was endeavouring to extract the last shards of flesh from the crab claws, I studied the wine list. It was of the genus 'sensible' -- not over-long, sourced from one reliable supplier and capable of providing a kaleidoscope of decent drinking from around the vino-sphere. From it I selected a Semillon/ Sauvignon blend from the Bordeaux hinterland, made by two lovely girls and their crabby papa, all of whom I'd met. The wonderful thing about being involved with wine is it allows you to make these connections; there's a memory in every glass.

I had first crack at the mains and plucked the whole lemon sole with lobster off the 'specials' blackboard. The fish was larger and meatier than lemon soles are normally. It came with three generous chunks of lobster, springy and succulent. The chips, unfortunately, were hiding under the sole, so I couldn't tell whether they were properly crisp or not.

I surveyed TNQB with interest as her eyes flitted between carte and blackboard. A probationer on my roster of reviewing guests, she took the daube of beef, causing me to mark her up a couple of notches. The daube came, not in the traditional marmite, but as a presentation on a plate, along with a chunk of superb medium-rare fillet steak. The main event was fettled from beef cheek, 16 hours' simmering producing 'died and gone to heaven' flavours, putting TNQB on course for a second orgasm.

TNQB, herself a chef, and I came to the conclusion that 1014 (named after the date of the Battle of Clontarf) is one serious restaurant. Service was swift and friendly without being smarmy -- just what I needed being still traumatised after my Moroccan 'Carry on Up the Kasbah' episode a fortnight ago.

I enjoyed my fruit salad, replete with tangy berries and accompanied by as good a home-made ice cream (pistachio) as you'll get.

Meanwhile, my companion was detumescing over the sticky toffee pudding, which didn't quite meet her stringent standards. She's an expert at this dessert apparently and proclaimed 1014's, a STP lite. A few dates, apricots or figs in the middle wouldn't have gone amiss, she opined.

Two proper espressos later we were rolling home in a taxi. As I dropped TNQB off at her place she enquired not "How was it for you?" but "Did I pass the test?" "Darling," I said, searching for the word, "You were... er... climactic."

Verdict: Fine, sensitive cooking, first-class ingredients, decent wines, warm welcome.

Rating: * * * *

Restaurant 1014, 324 Clontarf Road, Dublin 3, Tel: 01 805 4877

scoop@dna.com

- Ernie Whalley