Following in dad's footsteps is a risky endeavor -- Robbie Knieval was never quite Evel enough, and Gary Redenbacher couldn't live up to his...pop. Filling big shoes with gusto, Sam Mink, with Oyster House. Mink's completely refurbished the spot where his father ran Sansom St Oyster House for 25 years, with whitewashed brick walls mixed w/ subway tiles, wide plank floors & tables, a raw bar made of reclaimed Academy of Music rafter timber, an heirloom collection of 200 hand-painted oyster plates, and -- salvaged from grandpa Mink's Kelly's on Mole St -- an antique milk glass cocktail rail (also, Amtrak's short-lived post-Prohibition slogan). Rawness includes two clams & six oysters (Cherrystone, Littlenecks; Cape May Salts, Ram Island, Pemaquid...), while roasted oysters run from Spanish (chorizo, cilantro-lime butter) and Fungi (mushrooms, vermouth, thyme), to XO (hot sauce, scallions) and Rockefeller (spinach, pernod, hollandaise); bowled starters include lobster bisque and snapper turtle soup, prepared "Philly style" (so, with wooder?). More "comfort seafood": small plates like smoked trout salad, grilled sardines, and fried Ipswich clams, plus larger dishes like a lobster roll, whole grilled black bass, grilled swordfish, pan roasted halibut, and a "New England Clam Bake for 2", which you will seek to have renamed via a discrimination suit, once you're extricated from your woefully small plane seat. The front bar -- topped with marble from the old walk at Independence Mall -- serves up six local draughts (PBC, Sly Fox, Victory...) and a slew of classic cocktails (Negroni, Sidecar, Old Fashioned, Blonde Caesar...), plus oyster shooters like the El Chulo (horseradish infused tequila, sangrita), the Chihuahua (hot pepper & cilantro infused vodka), the Thai-basil vodka Bangkok, and the sadly alcohol-free Bloody Shame -- a great name for a beverage with no pop whatsoever.