The walls of the Champagne Parlor section of the restaurant are covered in hundreds of unvarnished plywood squares that jut from the wall at varying heights, reminiscent of a Kurt Schwitters collage, while the Oyster House half is paneled vertically in the thin sides of raw two-by-fours.

What will make Frank’s Oyster House into that perfect blend of boardroom and pub, hangout and special-evening destination, is to pack the room with diners who’ve eaten there so often and so long the booths become a neighborhood in themselves.

The woodshop chic the brothers introduced at How to Cook a Wolf has taken on a psychedelic cast.

Their oysters–kushis, Olympias, shigokus, other top picks from the Northwest–are presented on a long, blocky rectangle formed from pressed ice cubes.

The owners, whose 5-year-old Pair is now solidly popular enough to enable them to open a second restaurant three blocks down the street, say that Frank’s is an homage to Sarah’s grandfather, a pressman at the Boston Globe who died in the early 1970s.

They’re showing their respects by reworking dishes like crab louie, a classic that Seattleites have loved for a century.

All these dishes mine a well-worked vein in a way that doesn’t feel tired.