Patrick Guilbaud's has two unusual properties. Firstly it is housed in a building purpose-built as a restaurant, and secondly it is the first and only restaurant in Ireland to have two Michelin stars. To put this into perspective there are 9 such awards in the British Isles, and only 97 in the whole of Europe.
As an ex-restaurateur whose best efforts managed only a Michelin red 'M', I know how much work, patience, perseverance and dedication goes into meriting this award. What makes the Michelin awards so prestigious not just to the public but to the restaurateurs themselves is that uniquely as a guide, it only employs inspectors who have themselves worked in the trade. No amateur gourmets or soi-disant arbiters of taste fill their ranks. As a result, an award from the Michelin is effectively an accolade from one's peers as much as from an independent guide. For Patrick it is 'much like winning an Oscar.' He told me that when he phoned his mother to tell her the news, she wept.

So what makes a restaurant two-star? Excellence is the obvious answer, but that needs clarification. Any enterprise has to select for itself a style, an individual way of presenting its wares that makes it different from the rest. It could be its cuisine, its price, its ambience, its level of service or any combination of these. Clearly whatever is chosen will not please everyone, but that's not the point. If whatever choice has been made is flawlessly executed, then excellence has been achieved, irrespective of voices to the contrary.

My own prejudice has always been for cuisine grand-mere, or to put it another way, plain peasant food. But that's a daily prejudice; when I eat out my greatest pleasure is sampling what is not ordinarily on my table. And Patrick Guilbaud's food is very different from mine.

One good way to find out what is meant by two-star excellence is to sample it. So my wife, myself and two friends went for lunch to Guilbaud's on Friday. I asked Patrick what he thought the award would mean to his restaurant. 'I hope that people will still be able to come and enjoy themselves. People shouldn't be intimidated; we are, after all, only cooking food.' This is, for Patrick, the bottom line. Five generations of Guilbauds in the catering industry means that the business is well understood. Fashion and hype may bring short-term success, but the long haul is for those who never lose sight of the basics and after fifteen years Patrick has proved his point.

Lunch began with a glass of the house white; a full, fat viscid Rully that lingered on the palate, which we sipped while perusing the menu. The table d'hote menu is £21.27 per person, an a la carte choice would not be less than £35. By European standards that represents extraordinary value for a two-star restaurant, but back to this point later.

I placed myself entirely in Patrick's hands for my meal and for the wine. From his extensive wine-list he selected for us a white, Macon Clesse '92, and a red, Morey St. Denis '90. The Maconnais had all the honey and immediate impact of a great Burgundy, but was a little short. The red, the St. Denis, was an inspired choice; full, complex and subtly lingering.

In the interests of research each one of us had something different at each course and all sampled one another's. Our starters were: king scallops, confit of duck, fresh tuna salad and hot foie gras. The winner by acclaim was the foie gras. The main courses were: magret de canard, fillet of pork with figs, John Dory and simple fillet steak. Dessert included a wonderful chocolate mousse, a chestnut parfait, a perfectly divine feuillete of bananas, and a creme brulee. Each one of these dishes was impeccably presented, perfectly cooked, and very good to eat. But then, that should come as no surprise, we were dining after all two-star.

What separates this restaurant from so many others is not just the good food - at this level that should be a given - but it is the intelligent and attentive service. Looking around the full dining-room there was an overwhelmimg preponderance of suits, mine included. Deal-makers need to keep their eyes on the ball, not constantly in search of a waiter's eye. Here everything happens just as it should; flawlessly. The attention to detail is remarkable, keeping glasses refreshed, replenished rolls and butter, changing ash-trays; it all happens before you need to ask.

So back to my point on value. For anyone other than an expense account diner this kind of eating experience is not something that can be done too often. Like excellence in any other field it's expensive, but then you get what you pay for. The truth is that you could feed a family of four for a week for the price of a lunch for two with wine, but I'm not sure that's a useful comparison. Eating at this level is a treat, not a necessity. It's the very difference from the mundane and pedestrian that sets it apart.

On a broader view of things Guilbaud's award says as much about Ireland's gastronomic coming of age as it does about his restaurant. It means that Ireland's capital has a restaurant to which a business man can take a European client and feel proud, and that's no small thing. There has to be a place in any capital for a restaurant that maintains the highest global standards, it's a question of pride. For Patrick now comes the hard part; keeping both stars.