If so, read on, but be warned: there won't be a word of criticism.

There is, though, a word of regret – that the wonderful cooking at Moran's doesn't have a better showcase than the boxy former shop unit the restaurant occupies in a corner of a small, unprepossessing precinct, with a "business recovery and insolvency office" (very handy these days) just a shop away.

The precinct, complete with garden centre, is, admittedly, in Sheffield 17, a choice middle-class postcode four miles or so from the city centre on the way to the Peak District. The shops reflect the setting; their garden furniture and barbecue kits are upmarket stuff, so you could have lunch at Moran's and then pop round to pick up a water feature and a couple of bags of compost.

The fact remains, though, that you could walk straight past the restaurant's bland frontage and never suspect that such high quality food is being served inside. We weren't even sure whether it had a front door.

It did, and one of the four delightful waitresses greeted us with a smile, took our coats, showed us to our table, gave us the menus and wine list, asked if we wanted pre-dinner drinks, and brought them, along with a basket of warm bread. All that took less than five minutes, but with no rush or fuss.

We'd booked for 7.30, assuming we'd have the place to ourselves so early in the evening. We were wrong: Sheffield 17 clearly dines early. Four other tables were already occupied and we all seemed to have arrived together. With 13 meals due to be ordered within minutes of each other, an evening of long waits seemed to stretch inevitably ahead.

In the event, everything was delivered with well-judged speed, style and charm. There were no long lulls in which to earwig on the party at the next table who were yawping on about their "sublime" evenings in some of the usual over-praised, over-priced foodie bolt-holes in the Lake District ("A crème caramel to die for... And those goujons!").

The Morans – Bryan the chef and his wife Sarah, who does front-of-house - have tried their best to make something of their low-ceilinged big-windowed box, and the result (deliberately or not) has a pleasant 1970s retro feel. The walls are warm orange and aubergine, the furniture is plain, functional dark-wood, and the only frippery is a couple of room dividers that could have come straight off the set of Abigail's Party. The toilets, rather curiously, are plusher, with L'Occitane toiletries. This impressed my wife, so I pass it on in good faith.

But that's enough about the décor. The two reasons to go to Moran's are the relaxed atmosphere and the kitchen expertise. The menu, with eight starters (£4.50 to £8) and seven mains (including beef, duck, lamb and guinea fowl; mostly £17 to £18), is comprehensive without being showy.

It's strong on lists of ingredients: one of those menus that, with a few judicious cooking times thrown in, could easily amount to a recipe. Look at my (£5.50) starter: Grilled goat's cheese on beetroot and horseradish compote, roast pepper and rocket salad, raspberry vinaigrette. It was so light and tangy, the beetroot so sweet and unacidic, that my wife kept helping herself to it from across the table.

I returned the compliment with her (also £5.50) mozzarella with avocado and oregano salsa, tomato tapenade, toasted pine nut oil and basil essence. It sounded a bit fussy, but it was a delight, with the mozzarella as fluffy as meringue. Already, I'm afraid, we were moving inexorably towards those soft orgasmic moans that foodies favour when words fail.

The mains kept up the standard. A pan-fried cod on crushed new potatoes (£16.95) was firm and perfectly judged, while a herb gnocchi (£12.95) with roast butternut squash and spinach was soft but not stodgy, creamy but not cloying. These are not cheap prices in our credit-crunched times, and Moran's is taking a risk by charging an extra £3 for a range of side dishes, including salad, vegetables, mash and chips. We ordered two: chunky glazed carrots with pea shoots, and French beans with sauté shallots and pine nuts.

They added colour and crunch (of the non-credit sort).

We shared a delicious crème brulee dessert that we didn't need (£5.95) and, after a mix-up with the order, weren't charged for it, or for our coffees. From a discriminating wine list, the rich £13.95 Merlot came at the cheaper end of the range, taking the bill, without pre-dinner drinks, to £60.85.

The confidence in the kitchen was matched by the confidence front-of-house. The waitresses never mithered us with fretful "Is everything all right?" queries. They could see everything was.

As we left, the people at the next table were pondering the problems of pancetta, and the even greater problems of prawns. "When you chuck in cooked prawns, they do taste rubbery," said one. "There's no way round it." An eternal dilemma in Sheffield 17.

Moran's, 289 Abbeydale Road South, Sheffield S17 3LB. Tel: 0114 235 0101. www.moranssheffield.co.uk. Open for lunch Wed to Sun, noon to 2.30pm (3pm, Sun); dinner Tues to Thurs, 7 to 9pm; Fri & Sat 7 to 9.30pm.