Discovering the allure of Velure

My sister Sybil has been dying to try out a smart restaurant and, since she is much younger and a proper girl about town, Velure seemed the right place to take her. Velure is a new restaurant on South William Street, where Cafe Caruso and Peacock Alley used to be. If the name sounds familiar it's because Velure is better known as the former Gaiety nightclub, and the same jazz and soul soundtrack is promised in the restaurant.

For more company, Sybil invited her friend Basil - and yes, those are their real names. Velure is easy to find, not because of any obvious street signs but because it is just two doors from the Khyber Indian restaurant, where a man in a turban is stationed outside to drum up business. Although it has been open only a week, it already has a club-like feel to it. If you remember Cafe Caruso and Peacock Alley, then you know the layout - a long narrow room with an even narrower section down the back that looks like a railway carriage. This is the cool place to get a table, judging by the number of skinny individuals who were folded into banquette seats. A man who looked like the owner was also closeted down this end, observing everything in the mirrored walls.

We were in the front bit, beside a group of businessmen who were having a high old time with cigars and cocktails. These were being made up at a long shiny bar with a brilliant display of mirror-backed bottles.

The decor relies heavily on velour and light bulbs. We were seated on a comfy velour banquette, facing a display of round caramel velour pads with bulbs sticking out of them. "They're old stool seats covered in velvet with bulbs sticking out of them, aren't they?" said Sybil. "Are they supposed to be breasts?" Well, I suppose in her toned and tanned pre-breast-feeding set, breasts might look like that. Overall, the effect is sexy and cool, like the music.

Cocktails had to be had. With several years of waitressing and bar-tending behind her, Sybil wanted to test the Margeritas. Hers came in a martini glass ("that's odd,") and was passable, but not fabulous. A bit mean with the tequila, she felt. My dry martini was more generous and went straight to the head, but Basil's pina colada was another mild concoction in a long glass, with, thankfully, no umbrella.

The tables are dressed with snowy-white table cloths and slender brushed steel cutlery. The napkins are nice big cloth squares that stay on the knees rather than drift off towards the floor at the first opportunity.

The manager here is Jean-Francois Delaunay who used to be at the Tea Rooms in the Clarence and there are a few Tea Rooms-like touches, like the green and copper menu cards. The food is modelled on the Tea Rooms menu too, but it doesn't taste as good. Mind you, the service is better and more friendly.

Sybil had been saving herself all day for the food, so she wanted something really good, and big. But since Basil bagged the most delicious-sounding starter - the ravioli langoustine in lobster butter - she had to make do with smoked duck salad. It came in dry red slices arranged against a little hill of greens. It was too minimalist for her, but tasted excellent to me.

My artichoke salad held no surprises. A few nice mouthfuls of heart, but then too many scratchy outer leaves scattered on the plate - they catch you in the back of the throat. The salad leaves seemed to be undressed, though there were hints of balsamic vinegar and a sliver of red onion. Not a great starter, but at least one that leaves plenty of room for what's to follow. Basil, meanwhile, was quietly revelling in his rich lobster butter sauce and giant ravioli stuffed with lobster. Bread is offered with the usual pomp and ceremony and there are three types - sage and onion, tomato and, if you don't mind, chocolate. It does taste of chocolate which is interesting enough, but not really necessary. Basil, being a big lad, was offered two slices, while we got one very thin one each. If they were going to borrow anything from the Tea Rooms, could it not have been the plate of warm breads and mini pizzas with the oily dips which everyone loves?

One of the problems with reviewing restaurants is that, everywhere you go, there's cod on the menu. Velure's cod is trumpeted as "local" which doesn't add to its allure. Ever since a friend told me that cod is a bottom dweller, a filthy fish that trawls the sea floor for scraps, I have been avoiding it, no matter how much basil oil or herb crust comes with it. Instead, I had Mediterranean cassoulet of vegetables. This was a hearty plateful with aubergines, peppers and courgettes marinated and roasted black, and a big fat fennel bulb that was charred and definitely on the dry side. A nice, summery River Cafe-type dish, but a bit too chunky and earnest for me. Basil chose the manly-sounding slow-braised shin of veal with root vegetables and said it was very good, though to me the veal tasted tough, while Sybil had rack of spring lamb with tiny pink chops set against a backdrop of spinach and crushed potato. The meat was lovely and tender, as it should have been at £17.

Desserts were excellent. Sybil's Belgian maquise was an intensely rich chocolate pudding with a delicate tulle butterfly on top. The pastry chef had gone to the trouble of mirror-imaging the butterfly on the plate in cocoa powder and icing sugar.

I had a decent lemon tart, while Basil chanced the cheese plate. Small chunks of cheese came with salad leaves and some very small home made biscuits that were alarmingly hard and chewy. Sybil and Basil, who would usually go to places like Milano or the Bangkok Cafe, liked the music and the whole feel of Velure, but said it would be just too expensive for them. The bill for three, including one bottle of Badoit, a good dry Orvietto and three coffees came to £113, service not included.

Velure Bar and Restaurant, 47 South William Street, Dublin 2. Tel 01 670 5585. Open seven days, including Sunday brunch.