While waiting for Foodmad to rock up, the thought occurred to me that I was sat drinking the most inappropriately named hooch in the history of booze. I mean, what mad eejit of a marketing man would call a beer 'Bishop's Finger'?

This unspoken question caused me to want to know more, so out with the old Nokia and into the worldwide web. Here's what I found. The beer is made in Kent, relying, for its character, on Kentish hops. Bishop's fingers are the Kentish name for the signposts, unique to that county, pointing the way for pilgrims seeking to pray at Thomas à Becket's tomb in Canterbury. It was first marketed in February 1958, the month of the Munich air disaster and the debut of parking meters on London streets incidentally and, in those days, a pint bottle of Bishop's Finger cost the equivalent of 12 cent. Mine in The Exchequer Bar set me back €6.20.

Things are truly 'of their time'. Some of the medieval finger posts may still be there but whither the pilgrims? The 12 cent pint, too, is a relic of the past as is the ability to read the name on this beer label without thinking "Oh Jesus, no ... " On the other hand, gastro pubs are today's phenomenon. They may even have a tinge of the future because the juxtaposition of drink and informal food is something that Ireland largely refuses to do well.

The Exchequer, created from the ashes of the old and very traddy bar of the Central Hotel, announces itself as new, trendy and different the minute you walk in the door. Overhead there is what appears to be a Dali-esque sculpture of a whale's backbone growing out of the ceiling. Beyond the bar is another, with buttoned sofas and beyond that, a dining area, slightly too spartan to be designated a restaurant. As this had been pre-booked out by assorted Christmas revellers, I decided we would dine under the whale.

Foodmad arrived so I summoned up a brace of beers. This time, for auld lang syne I took Whitstable Bay, scene of a mad holiday in 1985 when a pint cost €2. Foodmad drank Urqell. One of the sine qua nons of a gastro pub, it seems, is a range of exotic beers. Foodmad, playing catch up, followed his Czech pils with something called 'Headless Horse' or was it 'Dog'? Anyhow, it hailed from Belfast; how exotic is that?

On foot of a cold night and a couple of beers, we wellied into the food. I'm not going to beat about the bush. It was as interesting, well cooked and well presented grub as I've had in any pub in Ireland. I know that's not saying a great deal so let me elaborate by proclaiming "the scoff here was seriously bloody good".

I kicked off with a bowl of cockles and mussels. The white wine sauce was laced, not smothered with cream, bonus points for that. Foodmad scoffed the chowder, which he described as "very good indeed". Then the pie arrived.

This was not the stereotypical pub pie, beef and Guinness hiding modestly beneath a bonnet of puff pastry. No, this was a proper pie, enveloped in a crispy, short-ish crust. Inside lurked moist, tender, tasty venison; it was the kind of pie that, could you buy it at a football match, you could eat at half-time and come away happy even if your team got stuffed. Served garlanded by beetroot, both the root and tender young leaves, the presentation was attractive yet unfussy.

I spoiled the symmetry, though, when Foodmad's chips arrived, piling them on to my plate with scant apology. Very good chips they were too. The batter on his ling was whisper light.

We shared desserts. A 'brambly' (presumably 'Bramley') apple tart and -- you are not gonna believe this -- jelly and ice cream! The bare description did not prepare us for the full-on intensity of the fruit jelly, counterpointed admirably by the delicacy of the amaretto ice. The tart was smashing, set off by a perfect butterscotch sauce, with the tartness of the apples masked by the caramelized exterior of the segments.

Prices are very reasonable. In fact, they have a €15 'pie and a pint' offer. Service was first class throughout.

The Exchequer has raised the bar for pub food in Dublin and the whole country. Keep it up, guys. The pity is, I know others will copy what The Exchequer is doing and fall short. Brace yourself for a plague of dry-as-a-hangman's-wit game pies and fish with strange names clad in concrete overcoats.

Verdict: Affordable, brilliant food, nice but not exhaustive range of beers, buzz aplenty.

Rating:

The Exchequer Bar, 3-5 Exchequer Street, Dublin 2 Tel: 01 670 6787

scoop@dna.com

- Ernie Whalley