It was a neighbour who first mentioned the Station House Hotel, just outside Kilmessan in Co Meath. I thought she was mad. All that way out of the city to chomp in a revamped railway station when I could hoof it instead to state-of-the-art Connolly?
And things didn't augur well when I couldn't find Kilmessan on the AA Handbook map. So I rang Imelda, who lives in a Co Meath village swamped by new houses full of city commuters for whom Saturday night out is anywhere - so long as it's near. She knew about the Station House Hotel. It's 12 km from Dunshaughlin and has been a hotel since 1984, run by Christy and Thelma Slattery, who've recently installed a bridal suite in the old signal box. The restaurant - and chef, Pauric White - has a booming reputation for locally produced food which is moderately priced - even when converted into euros.
The hotel has two entrances. One twist around the back lands you with a real sense of having missed the last train. The original station dates from 1862 - rail preservation enthusiasts have got muscles in their fingers from snap-happy clicking at the artifacts. On a balmy Indian summer evening, you can have aperitifs on the old platform. You can do it in the middle of winter as well, since the last passenger train rumbled past in 1947. Livestock had a reprieve until 1963. So don't expect miracles, even if a new Dublin-Navan line has been promised. Think of Luas and Waiting for Godot. And go inside.
The bar is tiny, with pre-dinner drinks served in a series of interconnecting rooms, one of which was once the ticket office. We were offered menus and ordered drinks, which were promptly served, though the waiter clutched the glasses by the rim. Then we were left alone for all of two minutes. You need longer than that to read the menu. Table d'hote dinner starts at £23.95 - there's a cheaper week-night menu as well - which consists of five courses, with a range of choices running from tasty appetisers such as Station House smokies - smoked fish - to somewhat original vegetarian main courses such as grilled avocado fan. In between, there's enough meat to keep the village butcher in striped aprons. The wine list appeared extensive until it came to half bottles. Although most clients drive here, maybe even cycle, the selection was down to a choice of four when it came to reds. A Fleurie 1998 at £12 won.
No sooner were our orders taken than we were shown into the dining-room, the old station waiting room. But rest assured - apart from a sloping panelled ceiling, this is no draughty CIE repository. The decor is countryhouse style with walls a bright heritage green and the curtains full and flouncy. Mind you, serving staff were forever sashaying past our table. It was just like, yes, all right, a proverbial railway station.
We were offered a choice of wholemeal, garlic or tomato and fennel bread, all heaven-sent. Paddy's first course was Poached Dublin Bay Prawns on a chiffonade of mixed leaves. I'm not sure what this was meant to be but it looked like basic, shredded rabbit food to me. However, the prawns were so fresh Paddy had to poke them to see if they were still alive. I counted 11 olives in my baked, goat's cheese tartlet. The base had a nice buttery taste, with the cheese warm, light, and nicely tossed with salad. I just wished I liked olives. A man at the next table was served entrecote of veal. He wondered to his companion if it might be pork, since it wasn't cut into thin slices. I had ordered carrot and coriander soup. Paddy had intended going straight to the sorbet but two bowls of soup arrived and he couldn't resist. The coriander tasted as if it had been lopped out of the soil seconds earlier. And the soup didn't need dollops of cream to convince. Next came two sorbets - piquant and delicate down to the last greedy spoonful.
A man in jeans and a sweatshirt wandered in wanting a quick meal. But he looked around and flew out of the place. It's not over-the-top glam, but it's definitely somewhere to wear the floaty number you bought for a wedding before it goes out of fashion again.
A waitress arrived with plates on which sat two plump breasts of chicken. They looked the part - only we hadn't ordered them. The menu explained that the railway line used be a favourite with Boyne anglers, visitors to Tara and members of the Meath Hunt, who always had priority on the track - that's horses, dogs and anyone in a green jacket. Our main courses arrived and were just the ticket. Paddy had roast rack of lamb on a bed of glazed carrot puree. It was so good he stopped talking to me. He was like a dog with a bone. Speaking of which, the man who had ordered the veal asked to take home the remains.
I attacked my half, roast, freerange duckling doused in a Tia Maria and orange sauce. It had been a close run thing with a wild mushroom and sweetcorn quiche. My precious bird was something else. Crisp, tender, succulent. I stopped talking too. Vegetables came on side-plates with a bite in them; the veg, that is. Tables were quite close to each other. The chatter concerned horses, racing and the Sam Maguire, all to the strains of a mandolin in the bar. I'd tell you what was being played if I wasn't virtually tone deaf. Next came desserts, which we decided would have to be brilliant to tempt us. But they weren't. Paddy couldn't be persuaded. I opted for small portions of two desserts: passion fruit and mango mousse; and terrine of mint and chocolate chip ice cream. Neither amounted to much, unless you absolutely love mint. And chocolate sauce on the side tasted like something out of a bottle.
But the coffee was freshly brewed and served with petits four. I've always believed if you're going to sin, sin well. They were sublime. I wish I'd been brave enough to ask for a doggie bag.
We were offered liqueurs because of the position of our table, but we demurred. The bill came to £72. It was a steal and included the Fleurie, two soft drinks, a glass of Chilean white and 10 per cent for service. Bread and organic raspberry jam were on sale to take away. I'd have got the brown bread if Paddy hadn't been so agitated about the journey home. It was raining. We took the wrong turn out of Kilmessan and ended up on a grand tour through Trim in the dead of night. What a pity we couldn't have taken a train.
The Station House Hotel in Kilmessan, Co Meath is open daily for lunch and dinner. Tel: 046-25239