Lebanese food absorbed influences from east and west and became the most refined of the southern Mediterranean cuisines, a kind of catch-all representative of the region, which meant that when Syrians and Egyptians and Jordanians opened restaurants they tended to call them Lebanese.

Beirut restaurant in Dunboyne has an owner actually from Lebanon.

That's an interesting idea for many reasons. He's obviously gone to some lengths to re-create a feeling of home. It's an odd moment, walking through the door into a cosy, low-lit, blue-tiled room that feels very much like being far away, further even than Dunboyne. The walls are decorated with murals depicting mountains and cedar trees and people dancing. Two chefs work away in an open-plan kitchen and the whole room smells of herbs.

The menu is the real thing, not much compromise made for a local market. At its core, Lebanese food is basically bread and rice and salads and grilled meat, but it's in the seasoning, the use of spices and herbs that it becomes it's own distinct thing. We ordered a set combination of mezze, a mix of different starters and a bottle of Massaya Classic, a Lebanese blend of Cabernet and Cinsault full of spicy fruit that matched the food that was to come. All of the plates hit the table at the same time. There were two of us and I don't know how many little dishes, but we managed somehow. We were brought a plate of mixed olives, pickles and tomatoes, a basket of hot Lebanese bread, similar to pitta and a bowl of chilli sauce. All of it was excellent.

Delicate vine leaves were stuffed with rice flavoured with lemon juice, parsley and spices. Sambousek were fried pastry triangles, some filled with melted cheese, some with minced lamb, which was beautifully fragrant with cinnamon and cumin. Moutabal was a silky smoky aubergine puree, spiked with tahini, garlic and lemon juice. Manakeesh bi zaatar was thin flatbread which had been brushed with olive oil, then coated in a mix of dried thyme and sesame seed. The flavour was utterly unique, dry and floral and earthy.

We could probably have got away without main courses but we had them anyway, let's say in the interest of research. Lamb shawarma came as thin slices of tender sweet meat marinated in a complex mix of spices, cooked with tomato and herbs. It came with bread, gherkins and a tahini sauce which provided a lemony freshness to contrast with the subtle warm flavours of the meat.

Farrouj moussahab was boneless char-grilled chicken which had been marinated in garlic and lemon juice. Very simple stuff, with perfect barbecue flavours coming from the grill and a powerful garlic mayonnaise on the side.

Both main courses came with side salad and a choice of rice or chips. We ordered a portion of tabbouleh, a salad of parsley, mint and scallion speckled with bulgar wheat in a lemon and oil dressing, far more herb than wheat and much fresher and lighter for it. We had one portion of very good baklava, sweet filo pastries with pistachio, and Lebanese coffee scented with cardamom.

The food at Beirut may seem initially simple . . . just good fresh ingredients nicely cooked. But there is a subtlety in the use of spices, marinades and herbs underlying that simplicity that lifts it onto another level. Simple is not the same as easy and the execution here was deft, the food authentic and different and distinct. Two people could order mezzes and a bottle of wine and get out for less than 50 or they could keep going as we did. From start to finish this is a very good ethnic restaurant that brings the flavours of Beirut to Dunboyne. Not a sentence you write every day.