Style in leprechaun-land

Dining out with senior members of the family can be tricky because what the younger ones think is a fabulous restaurant, the next generation up is likely to find tacky and loud with absolutely terrible food. Then there are the Alan Bennett moments to contend with - when the menu has dozens of delicious-sounding things on it, the waiter is standing by with his pen poised and mother starts wondering aloud why you can't get a simple meal, say a chop and some fresh spinach, anywhere anymore. But together we were as a family for a night in Killarney, and out we were determined to go.

Until now the choice in Killarney has been limited to cosy diddly-aye style restaurants that are warm and welcoming, particularly if you are American, furnished in traditional style and serving nourishing unspectacular food. Now, though, there is an alternative in Coopers. Nothing to do with the Dublin restaurants of that name, Coopers is a slick new venture that appears to be packing them in. To get to it you turn off the main street, at the Laurels pub, down Old Market Lane. We approached it with some trepidation, seeing the sign from a distance, and wondering if the restaurant could possibly be the broken-down building with damp streaming down the walls beside it. Fear not - the sign is parked on the wrong side of the road. The restaurant is opposite, with a long frontage, sleek sand-blasted windows and a door with a notice pinned to it saying that Ger and Tadgh would be playing tonight.

In we went to a bright, noisy room with just two empty tables left, both of them bad ones. Ours was the one just inside the door, exactly where the draught could catch you between the shoulder blades. The other was marginally better, at the end of the room beside the kitchen door, but it was reserved. "Sure you won't be cold there!" said the waitress, pointing out that there was a porch in between the inner and outer doors. I wasn't inclined to believe her but actually she was right. It wasn't cold at all and being bang in the middle of the room we had views all around. The other drawback, though, was that we were directly in front of Ger and Tadgh who were up on a slightly higher level, playing jazzy guitar numbers. "God it's loud" said my father-in-law turning around to give them and their big black amplifier a dirty look. "Can't hear a bloody thing with that bass," and so on.

Every other table was taken with what looked like a mix of prosperous locals and prosperous tourists. It is a big, bright room, almost too bright with its row of wacky chandeliers and low-hanging spots. A few moody shots of the lakes of Killarney after Ansel Adams cater to the tourist trade, but far more interesting are the huge back-lit grainy photos of proprietor chef Martin McCormack slaving away, flaming a pan here, fiddling with some vegetables there, engulfed in steam over yonder. While this Marco Pierre White approach might annoy you in Dublin, in Killarney it's great. We recognised him from the photos later on, when last orders had been served and he came into the dining room, not to tour the tables but to sit up at the bar and have a plate of salad and a coffee.

The rest of the staff are of the gaunt, black clad, many-earringed school of catering but they were extremely pleasant and fast on their feet. The menu is long and the wine list short. Short and disappointing, said my father-inlaw, who knows a good deal about wine. It arrives in a plastic folder with several empty plastic pouches at the back as though more wines are about to be added, which they may well be in time. For want of something better, we ordered a pricey Pouilly Fuse, and a couple of bottles of Rioja. The menu on the other hand reads like a dream, with lots of fish, game, and intricate-sounding starters. Black pudding came in thick slices - like the Kerry Buck that, as children, we ate reams of while on holiday in Sneem - topped with spicy sausages and with an onion gravy for moisture and a little pool of berry sauce for colour. David found it nice but rather ordinary, and missed the more traditional accompaniment of apple in some form.

MY SALAD with bacon and semi-sun-dried tomatoes was simple with the star ingredients arranged around the edge of a small mound of lettuce. It tasted good, particularly the tomatoes which were incredibly flavourful, but there was little or no dressing.

The general idea here seems to be to leave the food alone, and while something like a salad might seem incomplete without a rich oily dressing, the philosophy really works with the fish dishes. Here at last is a chef who will serve up fish without slapping it on top of mash, or drizzling it with oil, or heaping it up with some other trendy ingredient like deep fried chives. I ordered wild salmon grilled with lemon butter and that is exactly what arrived, looking beautiful on a wide, boat-shaped plate. A skewer laden with fish and shellfish was similarly unadorned and fresh tasting, while seafood gratin was satisfyingly creamy and crisp on top. My mother-in-law's crispy duck was a dainty little dish with a spiced fruit sauce all around the plate. Was this the same dash of berry coulis that appeared with the black pudding, and, later, around the creme brulee? We thought so, but they may all have been subtly different.

Mixed vegetables came in square white dishes and were fresh and al dente for which we were grateful. The potatoes had been given a coating of some red spicy stuff to liven them up but it was pure camouflage. They were watery potatoes that tasted of nothing at all. The only mineral water they have is in small bottles which are mean-looking and anyway make me feel as though I am at a conference. However, they decanted several bottles into a jug for us.

Three creme brulees were shared out for dessert, and though I'm not a great fan, a spoonful of it tasted perfectly warm, creamy and crisp at the same time. By 11.30 p.m., most of the tables were empty, and Tadgh and Ger had long gone. By then the staff were winding down and chatting among themselves, but we were allowed to sit on as long as we wished. I finished off with a double espresso which cost a ridiculous £3. Otherwise, the bill for six, including three bottles of wine, came to a not-outlandish £207.

Coopers Cafe and Restaurant, Old Market Lane, Killarney (064-37716)