'You surely don't want to be at the dentist on your birthday," said Rosemarie, when I told her I'd made an appointment for the repair of a broken tooth. She was clearly worried that I was in line for some painful procedure that would lay me low for the rest of the day. But I knew there was no question of that, having full confidence in the expert practitioner who has looked after my teeth for nearly 30 years. In the event, the work took just a few minutes, with no need even for an anaesthetic. Besides providing all that was necessary for "the tools of the trade" -- as my dentist calls my teeth -- the visit to the surgery brought an unexpected pleasure in a meeting with an old friend.

It is 25 years since Richard left The Oxford Times to work in Newcastle, but he still returns to Witney to the dentist. Presumably he takes the view that potentially painful treatment is better from someone you know. Perhaps he might be reconsidering this policy after this check-up turned into the extraction of a wisdom tooth. He was looking distinctly sorry for himself as we caught up on who has done what since last we met. What a pity, I thought, that he was hors de combat. How nice it would have been to have whisked him to Oxford to carry on the reminiscences as a second guest at my birthday dinner. That, by coincidence, would have involved him in a meeting with another Richard whom I have known almost as long as him.

I first encountered Richard Sarney in the mid-1970s when he worked for Andr Chavagnon at his legendary French restaurant, La Sorbonne, off High Street. Later Richard teamed up with another of Oxford's famous French names, Michel Sadones, to work at various of his restaurants including St Clements, Caf Francais, Michel's Brasserie and -- most recently -- Ma Belle, off Blue Boar Street.

I was saddened by the recent closure of Ma Belle -- a victim of the slump in tourism and what Michel bravely admitted was his lack of business acumen "At the end of the day I only have myself to blame," he said. "You have to have good business sense to run a restaurant these days -- charisma and cooking don't pay the bills."

His words, I am sure, will not be lost on Alastair Kendall with whom Richard has teamed up on a relaunch of Next Door in Holywell Street. Occupying a splendid building that was once Blackwell's Music shop, Next Door is next door (well almost) to the King's Arms in Holywell and is likewise owned by Young's Brewery. It was originally conceived as something of an extension to the KA, but its new manager Alastair is now aiming to position it at the luxury end of the restaurant market. Richard's skills as head chef will clearly be crucial in this.

That his skills have not deserted him was evident in the delicious dinner he cooked when we visited two weeks ago. My only criticism was that the service at times tended more towards the cheerily informal -- not to say haphazard -- than the politely efficient. This would not matter if one was paying bistro prices (as you can at lunch when there's a two-course menu for £9.25 and other 'cheapies'). But with main courses in the evening averaging about £16 and wine no cheaper than £12 a bottle -- and most a great deal more -- I think more formality is required.

My intention, as birthday boy, had been to go to the top end of the menu with lobster. Would it be grilled with garlic butter at £24.95, or turned into that Sorbonne favourite, lobster thermidor, for £1 more? The question was immaterial, since lobster was off (the supplies were not good that day, Richard told me later). I settled instead for what used to be called "poor man's lobster" (it was poor man's scampi too). Did I say 'settled'? Actually, I opted eagerly for monkfish when it was mentioned as the night's fish special by the waitress.

The dish (£16.95) was superbly executed. Three pieces of fish were presented with an accompaniment of spinach and a spring roll containing pieces of chopped scallop meat and herbs. There was also a fruity mango sauce. I preceded it with a starter from the standard menu -- pan-fried tiger prawns (£6.50) in coriander butter with tomato sauce and 'crispy' noodles. All was fine, except the noodles weren't crispy; in fact, they were rather chewy.

Rosemarie began with mussels (£5.95). She thought Richard's way with the humble mollusc was the most delicious she had encountered -- steamed to a tender perfection in a tangy broth of ginger, coconut milk, chilli, lemongrass and coriander.

After this Thai touch, there was the flavour of Normandy with a healthy -- or in truth, I suppose, unhealthy -- slug of Calvados in the sauce accompanying her main course of escalope of veal (£16.95).

Throughout the meal we drank white Rioja (El Coto -- pale and refreshing, at £13.95).

To end this happy birthday treat we shared a scrumptious crme brule (£3.95). What a change this was from the egg-custardy travesties so often served these days. The perfect creamy base and crispy caramel top were of the sort made famous by Andr Chavagnon at La Sorbonne. Well did Richard learn his lessons there.