Latin American dining in Melbourne still feels insubstantial, which only underscores the ambition and significance of Alejandro Saravia’s latest project. The chef and restaurateur, who helped introduce modern Peruvian cooking to Australian audiences more than a decade ago, first debuted Morena in Sydney in 2011. Now, the pan-Latin fine diner has arrived in Melbourne, taking up residence in a sleek new build at 80 Collins – the same precinct as its sibling venue, Farmer’s Daughters.
The split-level space is carefully orchestrated. Downstairs, a gleaming, charcoal-toned chef’s table wraps around the open kitchen – a setting built for narrative, in line with Saravia’s storytelling ethos. Upstairs, whitewashed walls, sparse furnishings and a second kitchen set the tone for a quieter, more intimate dining room complete with an outdoor terrace. Local artworks, ceramics and foliage soften the clean lines and lend a sense of place.
The drinks list gestures across Latin America, particularly through its wine selection, but the cocktails are worth a detour. Pisco, the grape-based brandy central to Peruvian drinking culture, appears in several expressions. A standout is the guanabana sour, which layers the spirit with chartreuse, apricot brandy and soursop, a custardy tropical fruit that adds tang and weight. More delicate is the ponche de leche, a clarified milk punch laced with coffee, pineapple and plantain. It’s silky, rich and perhaps too short to start a meal with, but a lovely way to end one.
Like the drinks, the food spans the region, though there are fewer choices to make. Aside from a handful of add-ons, diners simply select the number of courses and whether they’d prefer the standard or vegetarian menu. The rest is left to the kitchen – a format that suits the restaurant’s cross-border approach. On our visit, we opted for the four-course “Latin Pathways,” one of each, to take in the full range. The vegetarian offering held its own and in some cases, outshone its counterpart, making a strong case for trying both.
Ceviche, a Peruvian staple, features on every menu. The standard version pairs blue-eye with a green mango tiger’s milk (or leche de tigre), the sharp, citrus-based marinade that traditionally cures the fish. It’s bright, tart and slightly sweet with a creeping heat and tiny pops of finger lime in place of the usual lime wedge. The vegetarian version substitutes grilled hearts of palm for fish. They’re smoky, just firm enough, and dressed in a jalapeno-spiked tiger’s milk that offers its own satisfying depth rather than trying to mimic the seafood version.
Next come skewers, charred and fragrant, playfully presented on a hibachi grill. (We’re told it’s a nod to Latin American street food.) The duck is tender and deeply seasoned; the mushrooms carry a smoky chew. Accompaniments like pickled onions, avocado-spiked salsa verde and warm blue corn tortillas round out the dish. The only complaint? Not enough skewers to justify the remaining tortillas, which are too good to waste.
A third course substitution — rainbow trout in place of grouper — turned out to be a highlight, the skin crackled and the flesh flaked just so. Served over a stew of squid and octopus, finished with a prawn dashi and crowned with a crisp slice of taro, it was rich, balanced and textural, showcasing both the kitchen’s technical precision and the layered influences and flavours of the cuisine. The vegetarian equivalent, a wedge of grilled Japanese pumpkin glazed with panela, was just as compelling with a verdant mole and herb salad to temper the sweetness.
The final savoury course was a Kurubuta pork loin, seared and sliced, served with adobo and crisped lacinato kale. While delicious, the portion felt conservative, especially following the trout. A starch or salad might have rounded it out. But that’s the beauty of sharing two distinct sets. The vegetarian finale, a tamale with corn sauce and ajicero (a diced chilli relish), was generously sized and a satisfying note to end on.
There were small wobbles in the service – a few hesitant explanations, a dish or two that needed prompting – though the team remained gracious throughout. With some staff members seemingly in training, these issues will likely smooth out in time.
Morena offers something Melbourne’s fine dining landscape still lacks: a venue that treats Latin American cooking not as novelty, but as a serious, evolving culinary language. Saravia pulls threads from across the region and ties them together with care. The intent feels quietly groundbreaking.