THE Garden Ring supermarket on Moscow's Bolshaya Sadovaya Street once boasted of its Irish connections. A shamrock still adorns the shopfront, and greetings in the Irish and Russian languages are posted on a wall inside the entrance. But that nowadays, is as far as it goes.

At the pre packed meat counter, chopped beef and steaks are marked! "French" while similar products on the same shelves do not give any indication of their country of origin. On inquiring from the butcher on duty, I was told somewhat defensively: "Yes, they are Irish."

Upwards of 10 per cent of the beef sold in Moscow is Irish, but in not a single shop during a tour of the city did I find it identified as such.

At leading restaurants such as the Teatro in the plush Metropol Hotel close by the Bolshoi Theatre, steak dishes are marked: "Prime US Beef."

At the less expensive end of the scale McDonalds, which now has, numerous outlets in Moscow, proudly lets its customers know that its burgers are made from Russian beef, from cattle raised at its own farms.

The "mad cow scare" has bitten badly in Russia, and the country most associated with it is Ireland.

Those back home who think political leverage can be applied to lift the partial ban simply don't understand the Russian situation. Noises emanating from Ireland are picked up on very sensitive antennae in Russia, and any suggestion from the Irish side that pressure can be put on the Russians is likely to be counterproductive in the extreme.

Most Russians deplore the loss of their country's superpower status. Expansion of NATO eastwards is seen as an attempt by "the west" to isolate them. The International Monetary Fund is viewed as a western" institution meddling in Russian affairs.

The Russian mind is suspicious in the extreme of foreign intervention and not without justification, for "westerners", Poles, Germans, French, Swedes and Lithuanians have historically come to Russia with the worst of intentions: that of military conquest.

Any attempt from the Irish side, from a country whose population is one quarter that of the Moscow region, to wield a "big stick" would firstly hurt Russian sensibilities, secondly risk arousing anti western feelings and thirdly fail to realise the alternatives to Irish beef available to those consumers who can afford it.

In Moscow there are two very distinct markets. In the lower priced one, hefty butchers swipe at beef carcases with great axes, and the customer, rather than getting a specific cut, is happy to receive a cross section of cow which, if imported, comes most likely from neighbouring Belarus or Ukraine. To these customers, Irish beef is far beyond their financial reach.

At the expensive end of the scale, and Moscow is now a very expensive city, those 15 per cent of Muscovites who can afford to splash out have a choice which most Irish consumers would envy.

The YURS supermarket on Krasnaya Presnya Street is a case in, point. There on the wine shelves, mixed in with the Bulgarian Cabernet, I found a consignment of Chateau Lafite awaiting the casual buyer with a price tag of $475 a bottle. For those with sweeter and cheaper tastes there was Chateau d'Yquem at $350.

The "new Russians", as those who have amassed large fortunes since the dissolution of the Soviet Union are called, simply want the best and are prepared to get it at any price. The same goes for beef as well as wine. France is the country associated in the Russian mind with top quality food.

French and US beef are regarded as the best, despite the fact that beef from five departments in France have suffered bans similar to that imposed on beef from Tipperary, Cork and Monaghan.

Ireland, with its reputation for a pure ecology, was once up there with the others, but the "mad cow" scare - has changed that. There has been far more controversy in Ireland than in France, and this has been reflected in Russian media coverage.

Two further factors are at play. Firstly, Ireland simply does not have any big stick to wave at the Russians. Earlier this year, in a celebrated case, the veterinary inspectorate of the Russian Agriculture Ministry banned the import of chicken legs from the US because of suspected salmonella contamination.

It so happened that the main supplier of the product was an Arkansas company which was also a major contributor to the political funds of that state's favourite son, who also happened to be the US president.

President Clinton met President Yeltsin at an anti terrorism summit in Sharm el Sheikh in Egypt. A document from their meeting was leaked to the Washington Times, which reported that a deal had been done on the following basis: Mr Clinton would ensure that no statements harmful to Mr Yeltsin's reelection campaign would emanate from America, and in return Mr Yeltsin would make sure the ban was lifted.

It takes no great stretch of the imagination to realise that John Bruton or Ivan Yates wield far less clout than William Jefferson Clinton. It takes a great stretch of the imagination to visualise what political favours they could supply to Russia in return from a lifting of the ban.

While there is no evidence to suggest that Russia's veterinary inspectorate is tainted by the corruption which is endemic in Mr Yeltsin's administration, a move towards the political sphere could ensure that Irish negotiators would enter a very murky area.

The other factor is that Russia is worried about food imports from the economic point of view as well as that of health. More than 40 per cent of food bought in Russia is imported. In the vast cities of Moscow and St Petersburg, the figure rises to 70 per cent.

Russian agriculture is suffering badly because of imports, and most politicians want to see that rectified.