There’s been plenty of talk about pizza in my reviews of late. Between Leederville’s Vikka and East Perth’s Brown Street Grill, I’ve dedicated a lot of words to flour, sugo and cheese. Considering that Lola’s – the central character in this week’s essay – is a restaurant inspired by neighbourhood Australian pizza shops, that trend looks set to continue this week, but fear not. This isn’t going to be a review about pizza. Not just pizza, anyway.

Because although Lola’s was opened by Harriet Roxburgh and Harry Peasnell in late 2023 (the couple also own sandwich joint Peggy’s a few doors up) it wasn’t until January when Liam Monaghan took on the head chef gig at this raw, pared-back dining room in Freo’s resurgent west end. It’s a dining room where beetroot-coloured stone, patio furniture, decaying walls and custom-built benches from elite furniture makers Remington Matters come together to create a space that appeals to design fans, as well as parents trying to get the kids fed and back home at a sensible hour on a school night.

Before linking up with team Lola’s, Monaghan sharpened his seafood game with Adam Rees at Madalena’s; helped former Petition chef Jesse Blake run his six-week Eye Heart Rabbit residency at Sal’s Pasta Deli; and fast-tracked his Italian cooking education under Paul Bentley at Highgate hotspot Si Paradiso and Mount Hawthorn wine bar Casa. Among the through-lines connecting these three forward-thinking chefs, one commonality would be a knack for taking familiar dishes and using just enough kitchen-craft to make them feel fresh but not try-hard. Based on the food at Lola’s, Monaghan appears to have taken to heart many of his mentors’ lessons on restraint, understated technique and, most crucially, deliciousness.

The beef in the tartare toast ($27, one of a handful of small-plate offerings at the top of the Lola’s menu) is cut thick and chunky and served at the appropriate temperature to appreciate the meat’s chew, the dressing doctored to emphasise the vinegary thrust of the Worcestershire and tomato sauces. Underneath it all is a blob of aioli the menu tells me has been smoked. The smoke, in this instance, isn’t an assertive sitting-too-close-to-the-campfire sort of pong, but smoke that introduces low-key richness and denotes as a tartare of note. Octopus skewers (two for $18) are crisp and juicy in all the appropriate places and finished with a salsa of finely diced cucumber that brings all-important freshness and acidity.

Although Lola’s small plates were impressive from the get-go, nine months of trading seems to have given management a better idea of how diners are using the space and how these add-ons would best enrich the guest experience. One such power-up has been the introduction of the garlic flatbread ($10). It’s an essential order, even if it isn’t exactly flat. Rather, it lands tableside hot from the pizza oven, its edges rising like a caldera around a crater of glossy roasted garlic butter. The flatbread is magnificent as-is, although using it to mop up the juices of the octopus would not be a mistake.

The puff, chew and healthy tan of the flatbread suggests that the Lola’s kitchen has really gotten to know the ins and outs of its electric PizzaMaster stone-based oven. The evolution of the pizzas – previously very good, now among the state’s top-tier pies – confirms it, and that time spent refining the restaurant’s pizza programs has been worth it. Obsessing over flour ratios (there’s now more stone-ground Australian flour in the mix) and fermentation times plus other one-percenters has made Lola’s pizzas even stronger. Impressive, I reckon, for dough this thin.

How strong, you ask? Strong enough that the base of its round pies can support one heavily laden ham and pineapple ($35) pizza and its not-insignificant payload of smoked bacon, smoked pork, maple-glazed pineapple, pickled pineapples (plus the fury of a gazillion pizza purists). Load-bearing capabilities aside, the other benefit of dough with this sort of structural integrity is that the pizza also eats better for longer. Unlike Naples-style pizzas that are at their best when eaten immediately, these sturdier, Aussie-style pies offer end users a little more leeway. (I pity the footy club social committee member that caters an end-of-season windup with Naples-style pizzas.)

I didn’t revisit the deep pan-pizza, Detroit-inspired this time around, but trusted informants confirm they’re still as calorific and filling as I remember. (Following the heartbreaking news that Southern Rivers’ Detroit Square Pies closed in May, Lola’s remains one of the only places championing this distinctive regional American style of pizza.)

While Lola’s pizzas are undoubtedly worthy of their star billing, Monaghan’s biggest contribution to the party is a different skew of flour power: outstanding pasta. Slipping some semolina – durum wheat’s coarser-milled cousin – into the dough for house-made pappardelle equals fat noodles with bite rather than silky plushness. This firmness is a fine counterpoint to the richness of the buttery mushroom ragu ($32) the pappardelle is served with. Monday and Tuesday night pasta specials are along the lines of tubes of rigatoni amatriciana ($30 which includes a glass of wine): one of Rome’s classic pasta sauces made using guanciale, onion, tomatoes and chilli. As far as chilli levels goes, it’s a little more neutered than most versions I’ve had – a generous hand with the black pepper grinder introduces a different kind of warmth – but as a dish, still delivers on comfort.

When I visit, that same pappardelle dough was also used for the tortellini en brodo ($32): fat dumplings shaped like a pope’s hat and filled with a chunky blend of mortadella and prosciutto, paddling in a golden, gutsy broth of beef and chicken. It’s a classic combination from Italy’s north that remains popular for good reason, although I reckon the semolina-enriched dough might be too firm and thick for this application. (I also acknowledge that this observation looks a lot like a reviewer fumbling to find faults).

The other thing Monaghan’s brought to the table is dessert. Granted, the dessert menu was just one item long when I visited, but that solitary option – tiramisu! ($14) – banged. Starring thick crème diplomat sandwiching a thin layer of sponge and anointed with salted caramel, its make-up looked a lot like some kind of reverse sponge cake. On the plate, the white and brown duotone structure stands proud and tall like an iceberg – only this is an iceberg you’d want to hit.

While the introduction of pastas and sweets has made Lola’s a more complete dining experience – previously, most guests crossed the road and finished with gelato at Chicho – most of the changes here have been incremental rather than drastic. Gone are the old double-sided, single page A4 menus of old: in their place, a multi-page menu presented in classy maroon bistro-style menu folders. The pressure of being the new kids on the block is no longer weighing on the shoulders of manager Tess Purdy and her crew and they’re leaning hard into their roles as easy-going hosts and boosters of Lola’s short but considered drinks list. Delivery to surrounding areas is available Friday to Sunday. The restaurant now serves dinner daily.

If you haven’t been to Lola’s yet, I’m excited for you. There’s a lot to look forward to. If you liked Lola’s before, it’s likely that your crush will blossom into something stronger. But if you didn’t enjoy Lola’s previously, I’d gently encourage you to give it another look. I’ll admit, friends have told me that Lola’s pizzas are on the pricey side which – on paper – I get. But they’re also on the larger side too. I don’t think these 14-inch pies are the sort of pizza you’re meant to eat by yourself in one sitting. Rather, they’re the sort of group project you tackle with buddies as part of a larger Australian-Italian bonanza comprising ace snacks, filling pastas and delicious beverages. After all, Lola’s isn’t just about pizza.