Some sage culinary advice from Jimmy Buffett is inscribed above the oyster bar at the new Original Skiff Fish + Oysters in the Hilton's relaunched Hotel Champlain Burlington, near the lakefront. "Give me oysters and beer for dinner every day of the year," Buffett sang in 1974 on "Tin Cup Chalice." The next line of the song, "And I'll feel fine. I'll feel fine," is implied.

I'm all in on oysters and a cold beer. But I felt especially fine on my second visit to the stylish new restaurant, sitting at the oyster bar, sipping a gin and tonic slushie ($14 — where have you been all my life?) and sharing an ice-cold platter of oysters and littleneck clams on the half shell ($4 per oyster; $2 per clam).

While my introduction to frozen gin and tonics was belated, I have enjoyed a long, blissful relationship with raw oysters since overcoming a rocky start when my teenage self was initiated into the world of briny bivalves with a very large, slippery and salty specimen in a shot glass.

A couple of Sunday evenings ago, my husband and I watched Original Skiff sous chef Tim Novine shuck oysters that bore no similarity to my gag-provoking nemesis. Instead, the medium-size Barnstable, Mass.-raised shellfish yielded the ideal oyster: slurpable, sweet and oceanic.

But the less common (around here, at least) and less expensive freshly opened raw clams are what will draw me back to Original Skiff. The meaty mollusks had a muscly chew and minerally richness — and they paired beautifully with my new beverage crush.

Few things make me feel more on vacation than a frozen drink, though walking through a hotel to a restaurant helps.

Original Skiff, which opened in late June, is a partnership between DiamondRock Hospitality, the owner of Hotel Champlain Burlington; and the Heirloom Hospitality restaurant group. The latter is owned by Eric Warnstedt, chef-founder of Hen of the Wood in Burlington and Waterbury, and it also owns Prohibition Pig in Waterbury, Doc Ponds in Stowe and Gallus in Waterbury, which recently opened in Hen's original gristmill location.

Warnstedt and members of his 180-person team created and designed Original Skiff as a casual seafood restaurant for DiamondRock. They developed the launch menu and helped hire and train the staff, led by general manager Marina Cook and chef de cuisine Kevin Sprouse. The two seasoned culinary professionals, both 41, worked together at Charlotte's Philo Ridge Farm before its restaurant operation went on hiatus last December.

Once Original Skiff gets its sea legs, so to speak, Heirloom will step back, and the hotel's management company, Aimbridge Hospitality, will oversee the operation. "It will be our brand, our food, our recipes — but we're not running the restaurant," Warnstedt told Seven Days last November.

The oyster bar-meets-fish house concept is something that Warnstedt, a Florida native and recreational sport fisherman, said he's wanted to do for a while. He sees it as filling a niche in Burlington, he added.

A long bar divides the restaurant down the middle, creating two very different settings. The front half, which includes the oyster bar and a row of high-top tables, is bright and airy, with white subway tile and blond wood. The darker rear portion has chocolate-brown leather banquettes and cherry tables. The eagle-eyed might spy family photos of Warnstedt boating and fishing among the clutter of campy but somehow still tasteful wall decor.

"My Florida roots are hanging out pretty seriously," Warnstedt said with a laugh.

Though the menu is not purist by any means, it leans more New England chowder house than Gulf Coast fish house, partly due to the regionally available seafood. Highlights of my two meals included a pair of New England classics. Rhode Island-style stuffies ($16) — substantial quahog shells stuffed with a kicky mixture of seasoned chopped clams, Portuguese garlic sausage and a judicious amount of bread crumbs — were delicious, and their authenticity was validated by the Providence, R.I., native with whom I dined, though he noted the oft-debated inclusion of sausage. A small bowl of chunky, deeply flavored bluefish chowder ($14) was so thick — but not gloppy — that a spoon easily stood at attention in it.

On the more global and lighter side, I especially enjoyed two of the raw fish preparations that change daily based on the supply from Wood Mountain Fish, the restaurant's seafood purveyor. On our first visit, slender triangles of yellowtail crudo, spangled with capers, shallot and crunchy Maldon salt, swam in olive oil and lemon juice ($18). During our second meal, nuggets of halibut ceviche ($16) hung out with jalapeño, cucumber and radish in a lightly fermented tomato, cucumber and basil water. The ceviche came in a rocks glass, which I appreciated when we'd finished the fish and I wanted to sip (OK, gulp) the rest of the refreshing vegetable juice.

I had two minor quibbles with that dish: To my taste, the flavors popped more fully when I added a touch of salt. Second, small forks for spearing the chunks of fish and vegetables would have been more helpful than the envelope of saltines that accompanied the ceviche — though the salty crackers may have been the reason for its under-seasoning.

By contrast, saltines were the perfect accompaniment for the excellent creamy, smoky bluefish dip ($15), though I'd happily eat it slathered on cardboard.

Among the fried menu items we sampled, a clutch of piping hot salt cod fritters ($16) boasted crisp outer shells yielding to soft, saline hearts. The accompanying creamy tang of a malt vinegar aioli mellowed their on-the-edge saltiness. A fish fry main course of lightly cornmeal-coated flounder ($26) was solid, though I would have preferred a little more fish and fewer Old Bay-drenched fries, which were clearly not hand-cut on the premises. (Making them in-house is a long-term goal, Sprouse said.) Fried oysters ($17) with a tarragon aioli hit the balance of crunchy exterior and tender interior that is requisite for fried shellfish. We shared the oysters four ways, and it's indicative of their quality that I wished there had been a few more.

In a full-on nod to Florida, the star of the small dessert menu is the top-notch key lime pie ($9), made by Hen of the Wood pastry chef Laura Schantz. The Vermont contribution paled in comparison: the creemee sundae was disappointingly more icy than creamy. Sprouse acknowledged later that his culinary background does not include creemee making, and it's a work in progress.

The chef does have bona fide seafood chops. His first job as a teenager, growing up in the Tidewater region of Virginia, was at a classic coastal fried-fish joint called Bill's Seafood. His favorite seafood is jumbo lump crab meat from Virginia or North Carolina, which has yet to make an appearance on Original Skiff's menu.

He and his two sous chefs, Novine and Grady Jakobsberg, are getting all the systems and basics down at the new restaurant before they refine the opening roster of dishes. "We developed the backbone," Warnstedt said. "Then Kevin will be able to put his own fingerprint on it."

For now, the kitchen team is playing with specials, taking the freshest whole fish available and serving it as the daily fish main selection. On our first visit, that was a nicely cooked yellowfin tuna seared with cherry tomatoes, garlic scapes and a chimichurri sauce ($45). Sprouse said he'll soon pull the yellowfin trim from the freezer and feature it in a tuna kofta kebab special, served with cucumbers and yogurt.

General manager Cook brings a culinary degree and sommelier background to her management of the front of the house, which covers 145 seats, including almost 40 on a handsome remodeled wood patio out front. Overall, I was impressed with the service, especially for a new spot.

A southern California native, Cook admitted that seafood has not traditionally been her jam, though she's coming around. She seconded my strong support for raw littleneck clams and hypothesized, with a grin, that they don't get the same love as raw oysters simply because "they don't have the same publicist."

"I live and die by the steak," she said, referring to the ribeye ($55) with crispy onions and blue cheese, one of several non-seafood main dishes.

More than halfway through my second Original Skiff meal, I grudgingly realized I should probably try one of those selections. I asked Novine, who was busy shucking oysters and clams, about his favorite non-seafood dish. Without missing a beat, he copped to fancying the Skiff burger ($19), which he said was modeled on the Big Mac. My husband and I split one, and it was, indeed, pretty good — but not what I would go to Original Skiff for.

When I asked Warnstedt for his recommendations, he said that, after the raw bar and small seafood plates, he especially likes the bone-in pork chop ($38) with clams and cider.

The combination does sound, as Warnstedt promised, "really frickin' good." But if you're looking for me at Original Skiff, I'll most likely be at the oyster bar, alternately slurping raw clams and a frozen gin and tonic — happy as a clam.