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Morena is not currently the restaurant it’s supposed to be. Oddly, that isn’t because of the cooking or the service or the room – not really. It’s mostly because of us. For Morena to work, it needs more energy, and to get more energy, it needs more customers.

There’s perhaps a sense that it missed its window. Opened in September by chef Alejandro Saravia (Farmer’s Daughters), and with a Sydney sibling of the same name, the restaurant stuttered a bit at its outset.

I visited in October and decided to hold off on reviewing – I saw the potential of the place, but service was uneven. The kitchen was packed full of cooks while the floor was understaffed. The Latin American flavours were exciting, and a few dishes were exceptional, but I felt it had room to grow.

If I get the sense that a new venue is likely to change in its first few months (for better or worse), I often take pause before reviewing.

These days the kitchen is living up to its potential, delivering flavours from Latin America that showcase the ways in which those cuisines can shine in the fine dining sphere. (This is hardly revolutionary; Peru and Mexico are two of the most exciting fine-dining destinations in the world right now. But it’s less common in Melbourne.)

Lunch is geared to quicker visits, with two- or three-course menus. At dinner you have the choice of a four-course, $90 set menu, with optional snacks, supplements and desserts (all at an extra charge), or a six-course, $140 menu that includes dessert and a couple of the snacks.

Those snacks are full of whimsy and delight. A tiny tart shell holds a delicate dice of venison loin, sweetened slightly with ajicero, a red pepper sauce from Venezuela. The delicate mouthful manages to be light and meaty and floral all at once.

Goat’s cheese custard is topped with salad greens and comes with chips made from purple potatoes; you spoon the custard onto these in creamy, tangy scoops.

For a ceviche dish, firm, fresh blue-eye arrives in a pretty circle, sitting in an addictive, pert pool of green mango tiger’s milk, the Peruvian citrus-forward sauce. Finger lime and nasturtium act as garnish, and it’s one of the most elegant and attractive raw fish presentations I’ve had in recent memory.

Skewers of tender duck are served with fragrant and warm blue corn tortillas, alongside condiments including a tangy, silky green salsa that I wish I could buy and put on everything, it’s so perfectly balanced.

Discovering the world of sauces Saravia is showcasing here is perhaps the best thing about Morena – it’s likely you’ll taste more than one thing that is wholly and wonderfully new to you, unless you’ve spent a lot of time dining in Central and South America.

The same is true of the drinks, which focus on South American spirits and wines not commonly found here. Pisco takes its place in concoctions that go well beyond the pisco sour, and wines from Argentina and Chile are listed beside Australian and European bottles.

There are still some intrinsically peculiar things about Morena. The bathrooms are not in the restaurant, and to get to them you have to go a short way down the block and use a key card – which is fine as long as it’s not raining.

It’s likely you’ll taste more than one thing that is wholly and wonderfully new to you.

The space is unusual: two floors that are all angles, with much of the downstairs seating along a kitchen bar, and the upstairs room a puzzle of tables and banquettes slotted into geometric nooks. Again, this would be fun if people were crammed into those nooks and lining that bar, but, as it stands, the layout of the place feels a little incongruous.

Overall, the good things about Morena far outweigh its slight eccentricities. Service these days is warm and knowledgeable. I’d hate to think that we, as a city, are passing this place by because we only like to think of Latin American food in its more casual contexts – we’d be missing out if so.

But I have faith. The food at Morena right now is elegant, exciting and delicious. Now all the restaurant needs is you.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.