White Tea, by Aoife Cox

For some reason, the name White Tea had put me in mind of Lewis Carroll, conjuring up images of the fabled white rabbit and the mad hatter's tea party. The fact that I knew the tearooms thusly named to be the domain of a cook named Alice might, I'll grant, have had something to do with my fantastical associations.

Yet this little wonderland - where a whimsical array of china cups and saucers projects from the walls, alongside an artful display of spoons and forks - is neither down a rabbit-hole nor through a looking glass, but upstairs in a Dun Laoghaire furniture shop.

And there is nothing surreal about the cooking of Alice Burns. The lunchtime menu is simple and, for the most part, veg-friendly - you'll find a soup, a salad, a sandwich, a special and a savoury tart - and if, like the harried white rabbit, you are late, always late, you will have to take your chances with whatever is left by the time you get there.

I, rabbit-like, was too late for the tart of courgette, feta, flaked almonds and basil, but was perfectly happy to have, instead, a salad of chickpeas, avocado, feta, carrot and mint, which was thoughtfully composed and generous. Like any good tea party, however, the main draw here - apart from the tea, which is sourced from Solaris Botanicals and served in those china cups - is cake. A lemon drizzle cake, with a supremely tangy lemon curd filling might as well have had 'eat me' iced on it. A moist bakewell tart, generous with raspberries, not jam, said 'take me home'. There were outsized flapjacks, an imposing walnut and coffee cake, and slab-like brownies, dark and dense. 'Need a cake and we will bake' was the message written on one of the room's many mirrors. 'Bake a cake and we will eat', was my grinning, Cheshire-cattish reply.

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