We are in a golden age of pizza in Melbourne, and not for the reasons you might assume. It isn't because we finally have enough ovens imported from Italy or chefs staunchly adhering to the standards of Naples or Rome. That was a few years ago.

The fact is, Melbourne pizza has always been good, mostly because it arose from the unique expression of Italian immigrants living and cooking in Australia. You can get something approximating Napoli pizza in most big cities around the world – try finding a really good Lygon Street-style capricciosa pizza anywhere but here. Can't be done.

After decades of embarrassment and snobbery surrounding Italian Australian food, its honourable influence is finally finding its way onto the menus – and the pizzas – of more ambitious establishments.

This mainly takes the form of a certain sense of fun and maximalism that has always been part of the Australian pizza tradition, and a turning away from slavishness to Italian authenticity.

We're now seeing that maximalism on pies made with extreme care in fancy ovens. It is the melding of two traditions – taking some of what's great about our pizza history and applying it to the lessons we learned during the era of straining for Italian legitimacy. (Ironically, some of this trend is being marketed as homage to American Italian eateries, as if our own nostalgia and food traditions aren't worthy of drawing upon, but that's a gripe for another day.)

These thoughts ran through my mind as I sat at Figlia in Brunswick East recently, cramming a slice of delicately crispy pizza topped with spanner crab, yellow tomato sauce, grilled zucchini and mizuna ($42) into my maw.

The dough, made from organic wheat flour and fired in a hybrid gas-woodburning oven, had all the sourdough tang and respectable char of a great Italian thin-crust pie, but the topping was pure modern Australiana.

Figlia, from the crew behind Tipo 00 and Osteria Ilaria, has taken some time to come into itself, which is hardly surprising. With its large horseshoe bar, industrial airiness and 80 seats, this is a large operation, and pizza is a particularly tricky skill to master, especially at volume.

When I visited early on, everything seemed like it could use a minor adjustment. Maybe the pizza dough needed to proof a little longer, maybe the sourdough was finicky, maybe the pies needed a minute more in the oven. The taste was fantastic but the structure was off.

Even the bar program was a little vexing – a kelp-flavoured martini ($23) garnished with an anchovy, which was touted as a signature, had a disconcerting layer of sweetness that did not jive with what should have been a decidedly savoury cocktail.

A month later, and many of those kinks seem to have been worked out.

A chicken liver skewer ($9) that had previously come overcooked was now perfectly lacquered and creamy inside, bolstered by sweet balsamic onion.

Sea bream crudo ($25) was firm and fresh and dotted with the tiniest possible daubs of sea urchin that nonetheless packed a ton of oceanic funk.

If there was a learning curve regarding the dough and the oven, it's been broached and conquered: the pizzas now are fantastic, and just as importantly, they're a load of fun.

The margherita ($22) is great, but the more inventive options are what make the place special. Ox tongue, roasted garlic and endive make for a meaty, lightly bitter pie ($27), while stracciatella with fermented cabbage and chilli ($26) is an oddly brilliant combination of creamy, funky and spicy.

Main dishes have been pared back to a whole fish ($46) and a wagyu rump steak ($44). I do hope they eventually bring back the porchetta ($48) that showed up on an early menu – its crisp skin and tender herbed interior was the stuff of porky magic.

The weird martini is gone, and cocktails are mainly straightforward and great (who can argue with a margarita ($22) flavoured with fresh mandarin orange juice?).

Low intervention Italian varietals dominate the mid-priced wine list, and the relaxed staff know enough to guide you to the bottle best suited to your tastes.

Figlia came onto the scene with a tonne of excitement surrounding it – there is hardly a more beloved restaurant in town than Tipo 00, and the idea that this crew might do the same for pizza that they did for pasta was indeed delicious to consider.

I'd say they've perhaps gone a step further: they're making style of pizza that can be considered our own. And that should always garner as much respect and delight as anything wholly imported.

Vibe Industrial and airy with a hint of deco glamour

Go-to dish Ox tongue pizza

Drinks Cocktails, beer, vermouth, Italian-leaning low intervention wine list

Cost $110 for two, plus drinks