Since the Velvet Revolution opened the city's gates to tourism, most people I know have been filled with the desire to visit Prague and discover for themselves whether the reality of the old town's twisting cobbled streets and the morning mist rising from the Vltava lives up to the pictures. As a committed food lover, however, I'd contrived to keep a safe distance from the city, even after a close friend moved to Prague in the early 90s and urged me to visit before the rush. Vivid memories of the food I had sampled in Moscow and St Petersburg made my stomach squelch in protest. As a 16-year-old schoolgirl in Russia, I'd processed enough cabbage and dumplings to last several lifetimes, and besides, my low-fat diet was going quite well, thank you very much.

Yet for all that, reports of a flurry of Pizza Huts, McDonalds, and even a Tesco's springing up in the Czech Republic's first city led me to believe that time was running out to sample authentic Czech cuisine at deliciously low prices. Surely in the new millennium, local eateries would have upped their standards to benefit from the deluge of international tourists?

The first suggestion that this might not be the case came when I asked some Prague veterans for their eating tips before flying out. Greeted only with knowing looks and diffident recommendations, it began to dawn on me that I was going to have a task on my hands.

It was therefore with relief that I discovered on arrival that my hotel was just a few metres down the road from one of the top tips I'd noted down before departure: Reykjavik (on the corner of Karlova and Liliova, Old Town). Tired from the flight, I admired the impressive façade and happily slumped into a dimly lit corner seat, resolving to stick to Czech food for the rest of the trip. Everything I tried from their eclectic menu was beautifully presented, and a strong Icelandic influence resulted in plenty of fish and seafood. I quickly discovered that the restaurant priced itself about five times above more pedestrian alternatives (around £12 per person), but it's a safe bet for all dumpling-phobes and a good people-watching spot.

Fortified for a morning's sightseeing with a sturdy hotel breakfast of rye bread, cheese and salami, I spent several very enjoyable hours taking in the city's stunning architecture, understated elegance and warmth, but it wasn't long before my stomach was rumbling again. Determined to try the alarming but apparently inescapable specialities of wild boar, trout, duck and stag, I headed for a beer hall known for its goulash.

Stepping inside the Pivnice Radegast (on Celetna off the Old Town Square) I was instantly put off by the sight of their meat dishes. All were disconcertingly grey, and bore more resemblance to the plastic food in kids' play-kitchens than to anything I might want to ingest. My resolve broke and I headed back to the lovely Pizzeria Giovanni I'd noticed in the Kozna alleyway between Zelezna and Jilska. Pizza and pasta, the universal foods of convenience, hit the spot, and the pretty interior, excellent service and reasonable prices made this a firm favourite in the centre of the old town. You can count on paying around 110 Kc (£2.20) for huge plates of fresh pasta or a selection of fantastic pizzas and 30 Kc (60p) for a beer.

Intensive research preceded my next foray into local specialities. The result was an evening visit to U Medvidku (Na Perstyne 7, Old Town), a cavernous gothic beer hall on the site of a brewery founded in 1466. The first cabaret in Prague was performed here and as the 12% beers flowed, the atmosphere quickly turned from jovial to boisterous. Resolved not to be deterred this time, I took a long, hard look at the menu. The intriguing 'bear's foot' starter didn't really appeal, nor did the bacon dumplings with red cabbage, sauerkraut and 'scraps' - though a snip at 79Kc (£1.60). And even my robust appetite didn't stretch to eating roast pork, red cabbage, sauerkraut, dumplings, potato dumplings, bacon dumplings and sausage in one sitting.

I eventually ordered wild boar with bacon dumplings and red cabbage, as it was one of the smallest options, and I'd hardly taken a sip of my Hevolinka aperitif when appeared on the table in front of me. There was no question that the dish was tasty, but I still had major issues with its consistency. The meat fractured into stringy hunks, while the cabbage seemed to self-propagate every time I dented its mass by taking a mouthful. The lard dumplings soon became repellent, as they were at least 10cm wide and undiluted by anything crisp or fresh.

There was no room for dessert, or even for bread, and I began to feel like an anaconda must after swallowing a small mammal. I felt unpleasantly full and regretted combining such heavy food with so much beer. I'm not built for this diet, I told myself, as I struggled up from the table and returned to the hotel to lie down and stretch out.

I had recovered my full range of movement by the following morning and, after doing a few sit-ups in penance for the dumplings, I headed for the Malostranska (Small Town) on the other side of the river. Here, I was delighted to read, I would find sophisticated kitchens in riverbank hotels as well as tempting cafes at the top of a steep climb to the castle, poised to serve you delicious cakes to make up for the exertion.

Having skipped the hotel breakfast, a sentiment I thought might never return suddenly overwhelmed me as I approached the Charles Bridge: hunger. The Creperie Galerie right next to the bridge provided a great hangover cure: excellent sweet and savoury pancakes and an exhaustive choice of herbal teas. Across the river, restaurant prices rocketed in line with tourist numbers and the bankside hotels offered inviting menus - and vistas - aimed at high-spending visitors. Lunch at one of the cafes on the Small Town square will set you back a fraction of the cost, and it's a convenient spot to catch your breath on your way up the hill to the castle

For my final meal in Prague, I was in no great hurry to return for the another dose of dumplings, so opted for the experimental menu of the restaurant at the Architects' Club on Bethlehem Square. Tucked away in the atmospheric vaults of the building, this offers great value and unusually fruity variations on traditional bohemian dishes, such as beef stew with a cream and apple sauce. A meal and a beer here will only set you back around 180 Kc (£3.60) and the candlelit surroundings attract a young crowd.

You'll never starve in Prague whatever your budget, but it pays to look beyond the main tourist thoroughfares for the best grub. And you should cast aside any dieting anxieties as soon as you step off the plane.