The only thing frozen at Shuckers’ happy hour on a recent Tuesday afternoon was the ice under my Wildcat Cove oysters. The shellfish-centric bar in the basement of the Fairmont Olympic Hotel manages to embody many of Seattle’s best stereotypes while rejecting one of its worst—frosty social skills.

The big wood bar and chalkboards of fresh fish loan a genuine seafood ambience to the room, but it’s the oyster expertise from the staff that assures me I’m in the right place. Shuckers does what its name implies as well as anywhere in town. The sharpness of the golden mignonette and fresh grated horseradish woke my sleeping oysters from their shells. When I slurped the plump, silky bivalves, they slid out on a river of crisp brine.

At the limited, truly-only-an-hour happy hour, the oysters cost $2 each, about the same as anywhere else, with the bonus of being consumed in this stunning space. The carved oak alcoves, upholstered banquettes, and shimmering chandeliers elegantly nod to the former haberdashery’s history.

Hotel bars tend to gather an oddball mix of business travelers and wide-eyed tourists, but I found myself chatting with not only fellow Seattleites, but ones who actually lived downtown. The bartender, Brent, embodied the archetype of the job, ensuring that drinks and conversation flowed throughout the bar. It felt like the day-to-day banter of a dive bar, rather than the stilted informality of a hotel bar.

Shuckers isn’t perfect—and the non-happy-hour prices make that a tough clam to chew. The $39 price tag on my Crab Louie salad felt reasonable when I saw that it seemingly included the meat from an entire Dungeness. Much less so upon examining the insipid vegetables and overcooked egg.

But for happy hour oysters, it is a classic of the highest order: sophisticated, unstuffy, and alive.