Until now, in my innocence, I thought I was barred from only one Dublin restaurant, namely Shanahan's, the extremely expensive steakhouse on St Stephen's Green. I have yet to lose sleep over this.
Being barred from Les Frères Jacques, on the other hand, is a bit awkward, as I had been quite looking forward to revisiting the Dame Street restaurant after many years. But it seems that the proprietor, Jean-Jacques Caillabet, has given strict instructions that I am not to be served.
Perhaps I should have pointed out that as a member of several minority groups - restaurant critics, organic gardeners, Mac users, Anglicans, people with no interest in the World Cup - I could invoke anti-discrimination legislation, but I don't like eating under stress. Anyway, I dare say the wound will heal in time.
I may have greatly underestimated the number of restaurants that are not prepared to serve me; if so, can I appeal to restaurateurs to let me know the score before I hone the appetite and roll up expecting to be fed? I'll be happy to publish the list, for clarity.
Anyway, there we were, standing on Dame Street, gazing in the window at the throng of happy diners in Les Frères Jacques, which, as it happens, is 20 years old this year. As there was no chance of getting in, we decided to head across the river to Halo, at the Morrison Hotel, where they seemed reasonably happy to see us. I reckon they would have been pleased to see anyone, as only one other table was occupied in all the time we were there.
Our meal was a curate's egg: good in parts. It's a bit rich having to pay €6 for a couple of portions of bread - decent enough, although they included the dreaded tomato-and-fennel version that once tasted interesting but now haunts my nightmares - with black-olive paste, good olive oil and a kind of oven-dried tomato concoction.
Slices of hot-smoked duck breast with a salad of baby rocket and thin slices of asparagus was pleasant enough. Foie gras terrine with brioche (an extra portion of which turned up during consumption) was fine, and the accompanying gooseberry and cumin marmalade was sharp and to the point.
A salad of diced beetroot, leaves, feta and crumbled goat's cheese was perfectly edible, even if the dressing was far too sharp. The pickled cucumber was even sharper, to the point of unpleasantness.
A main course of roast cod was impeccably cooked, fresh and moist, served with a mixture of crisp pancetta and mushrooms. This was a simple and delicious dish, light and full of flavour while allowing the fish to sing (metaphorically speaking).
A shared main course of a whole kilo of short rib beef - which, at €49, is probably more or less what you would pay for one portion at Shanahan's, although I may be a bit out of date on this one - looked terrific.
Ordered as the kitchen wanted to serve it (medium rare), it was rather too medium and too little rare, but, as I say, it looked fantastic: thickly sliced, laid on a wooden platter and garnished with grilled asparagus and roast tomatoes. It also came with a little saucepan of rather underdone onion (a bit of caramelisation would have been delightful) and a dish of dauphinoise potato that tasted more of stock cube than garlic.
But the meat was utterly lacking in flavour. It had less taste than virgin tofu. Why is it that we have the capability to produce the best beef in the world and the meat industry is content to sell stuff that makes supermarket chicken seem tasty?
Halo went to some trouble to produce a carnivore's fantasy, but the result had as much taste as a glass of water. My local butcher in Lismore, who hangs his beef for a mere 14 days, provides me with meat that has proper flavour.
Can someone tell me why the stuff you get in most restaurants is worse than bland?
The bill for three, including a modest bottle of red and some mineral water, came to €153.75.
Halo, the Morrison Hotel, Ormond Quay, Dublin 1, 01-8872400, www.morrison hotel.ie
WINE CHOICE: Halo's list is deeply dull. Our bottle of Masi's lovely ripasso, the turbocharged version of Valpolicella, was fairly priced at €29. De Wetshof Bon Vallon Chardonnay, from the Cape, is good stuff at €26. When the going rate in restaurants for decent Sancerre is €38, why pay €49 for the rather ordinary Comte Lafond? Or €31 for Baron Philippe St Émilion 2001? Even the producers of proper St Émilion struggled to make decent wine in that vintage. And the lovely Margaux cru bourgeois Château d'Angludet 1998 is far overpriced at €180. The best buy is probably Domaine Talmard Mâcon-Uchizy, at €30.