Profile

Low key and inviting, this two-room restaurant and bar serves French standards in a typically French setting—as we Americans like to imagine it, anyway. Posters of vintage ads and bohemian scenes à la Toulouse-Lautrec plaster the dark wooden walls, interrupted only by a few prominent mirrors and white lacy half-curtains stringing the windows. In the noisier front room, there's a TV and large bar, amply stocked with Belgian beer and outfitted with bar stools comfortable enough for dining. Almost all the remaining indoor seating takes the form of banquettes; the entry room has a central one shaped like a horseshoe, while another runs the perimeter of the stately main room. At most tables, you're likely to spot middle-aged groups and local families sharing the deservedly popular house specialty, moules frites: a steaming pot of mussels and a helping of crispy, thick, and salty fries. Fresh, plump, and not at all gritty, the mussels come with a choice of six sauces, encompassing the traditional (mild garlic, chardonnay, and parsley) and the far-flung (Thai ginger and lemon grass). Despite other crowd pleasers like roasted chicken with zesty mashed potatoes, much of the menu feels like a letdown. The flimsy trout, steeped in a bland buttery sauce, is a particular disappointment. — Kate Appleton

Jacques has a deal to match nearly every night of the week. Monday is Belgian Night Feast with moules frites plus a Belgian draft for $20 (cash only). Tuesday is Ladies Night: buy one drink at the bar, get a complimentary second drink. Sunday through Thursday, 5:30 p.m.—11 p.m., there's a two-course, prix-fixe menu for $23 a head.

Tarte a l'oignon et chevre, $9; poulet rotis, $19; moules frites marinières, $16