Our enthusiastic waiter’s reverse psychology trickery comes on a little strong, but there’s no need for games here. Dessert is a no-brainer in my book, and at St Kilda’s new seaside fine diner LOTI, it was always going to be the magnum.

I was ready to call time on the outdated ice cream on a stick trick (can we give it a rest please, chefs?) until I tried Elijah Holland’s take.

Grab the popsicle handle and wrap your mouth around its decadent dark chocolate and chestnut-flecked armour, concealing a chestnut ice-cream, tangy chestnut and anise myrtle jam and oozy caramel – indulgent, balanced and freakin’ delicious.

And it’s not the only food you’ll find on sticks at the Saint Moritz apartments’ ritzy restaurant. Expert forager Holland has a penchant for threading proteins on twigs (namely butter poached scampi and lamb), using ingredients you can’t pronounce (ever heard of ajvar?) and artful plating almost too pretty to eat.

He did it for two years helming South Melbourne’s uber-fancy Lume restaurant, while working in China, at Noma Australia’s pop-up and Sydney’s Quay.

At LOTI (an acronym for lady of the ice and ode to the old Saint Moritz skating rink) expect more of the same – with ingredients made from scratch or scavenged from nature’s supermarket.

Like those sea succulents that add decorative lushness to the oyster platter ($5.50 each) loaded with an overwhelming amount of condiments.

Related review: This Chablis and oyster bar in the Melbourne CBD is a real gem

Think coconut flower nectar vinegar, finger limes, Davidson plum-spiked horseradish and two potion-like habanera dressing vials of varying heats (pro tip: order half a dozen to avoid mollusc-to-topping ratio disappointment).

An avalanche of snacks follow: smoked yellowfin tuna mousse ($10) sprinkled with cured albacore in a sweet wafer cone is this year’s answer to duck liver parfait while the “ice rink” ceviche ($29) gives us our first glimpse into Holland’s creative mind in overdrive.

Here he looks to the Spaniards, dicing red emperor into fat chunks before tumbling in lime juice, saltbush and black olives, and hatting with an ultrafine, bread plate-sized ice disc (for the rink, duh) that’s smashed and stirred tableside.

Gruntier and more iron rich than most raw fish dishes I’ve had, it’s a delight, especially with a spot-on wine pairing of grassy, jalapeño-leaning semillon.

Yet it’s not my favourite thing at LOTI.

Much like the sweets, I love Holland’s veg flexes with the beetroot raviolo ($23) draped over a sweet Murray cod mousse, surrounded by a pool of trout roe-jewelled beurre blanc (a divine flavour and textural explosion), roasted squash ($12) and firey XO sauce (incredible).

Was there anything I didn’t like? The contemporary pastel dining room reads more Chapel St cafe than Mediterranean coast-inspired, which is a little jarring considering all the super posh food and tweezer cheffing at play.

Certainly more of a latte than $320 lobster pasta special crowd, too.

The energy in Holland’s cooking is palpable. It’s thrilling for most part, but unsettling when those supercharged native flavours become cluttered in some dishes (case in point: if he hadn’t shared the backstory, that burnt marshmallow and gummy bear dessert looks and tastes like the wash-up of a nasty acid trip – of both the drug and citrus kind. Intriguing to say the least. Someone hand me a magnum).

Not every dish can be a banger. Some will be less rock star than others and while brilliant in their own right, we can’t appreciate Hamish sans Andy, sun without rain, marvellous from mediocre.

That’s the thing about LOTI; it’s a lot in name and nature, and with balance it’ll shine even brighter.