A friendly looking inn with care curtains and farm implements at regular intervals on the walls, Jacqueline's seems to specialize in inconsistency. At lunch, a waiter was barely civil, at dinner another was good-natured and gracious as well as efficient. At lunch, the brains were unctuous and happily seasoned with a crunch of parsley and shallot, a fish moist in a faintly mustard-spiked sauce, a sausage powerfully peppered and juicy, though sauces did tend to be heavy-handed and soups bland. At dinner, the blandness took hold, from a big beige slab called terrine de canard to mussel soup that needed reduction. Snails came in a sauce that could have been canned bouillon mixed with flour and a bit of cream; if we had had a finger bowl, we might have washed them off. Shrimps New Orleans were alternated with clumps of lettuce and covered with a faint Thousand Island dressing. On to stiff veal scallops in a floury paste of a coating, duck cooked long ago and long past prime time, with canned mandarin oranges and a wild-and-white rice mixture. Lamb chops were untrimmed of their fat, sauteed with an explosion of tarragon and washed with a vinegary brown sauce too sour to eat. The fish, as at lunch, tasted fresh, and was nicely dressed in a somewhat timid beurre blanc. There was, however, a highlights to the meal, a tray of four room-temperature cheeses, properly ripe. They could have made the meal.