Tasting Bali: A Food Lover's Journey

From street-side warungs to cliffside fine dining, one stomach takes on Bali — and survives.

It all started with a single spoonful of babi guling — roast suckling pig, spicy and crisp — eaten off a banana leaf while sitting on a plastic stool, sweating under the Ubud sun. And just like that, I fell hard for Balinese food.

I came to Bali with a yoga mat, a vague idea of “finding myself,” and a love for rice that borders on the spiritual. I left six kilos heavier, with zero enlightenment, but a deep knowledge of sambal varieties and a suspicion that Balinese grandmas hold the secret to happiness.

Here’s how my stomach — and my heart — wandered through Bali, one plate at a time.

First Stop: The Warungs of Ubud

You haven’t really been to Bali until you’ve eaten in a warung. These are small, family-run eateries, often no bigger than a living room, with plastic tablecloths and menus taped to the wall.

My favorite? Warung Biah Biah in Ubud. It’s where I learned that for less than 30,000 IDR (about $2), you can get a heaping plate of nasi campur — a mix of rice, vegetables, meat, egg, and sambal. The sambal matah, raw and zesty with lemongrass and shallots, nearly made me cry. Not from heat. From joy.

I sat beside a Dutch backpacker who claimed he’d eaten there twelve days straight. I believed him. We both reached for the last tempeh skewer. I let him win. Barely.

Cooking Class: The Great Coconut Grating Incident

In Sidemen, I signed up for a village cooking class. Seemed innocent enough. Until I was handed a traditional coconut grater — a sort of medieval bench with a serrated metal disc at the end — and told to “go ahead.”

Now, I’ve done many dangerous things in life. Skydiving. Salsa dancing with strangers. But nothing prepared me for the muscle ache of grating coconut by hand for lawar, a traditional mix of meat, coconut, and Balinese spices.

But I did it. I earned that lawar. And it was glorious. Earthy, spicy, textured. The kind of dish you don’t eat — you experience. The class cost 400,000 IDR (around $25), including a market tour, and was worth every bead of sweat and near finger loss.

Beachside Bites in Jimbaran

By Day 4, I’d adopted the phrase “I’m just here for the food” as a personal mantra. In Jimbaran, that meant seafood. Glorious, grilled, saucy seafood.

The scene is something out of a movie: tables on the sand, waves lapping at your ankles, smoky aromas drifting from dozens of open grills. I picked my fish from a giant cooler (a red snapper the size of my forearm), and fifteen minutes later, it came back transformed — charred, smothered in sambal kecap, and served with rice and morning glory greens.

The meal cost 200,000 IDR (about $13) including a coconut the size of my head. Pricey by warung standards, but unbeatable in ambiance. I saw a couple get engaged at the next table. I clapped with one greasy hand.

Fine Dining in the Cliffs of Uluwatu

After five days of eating with my fingers, I decided it was time to wear shoes to dinner. I booked a sunset table at Sundara at the Four Seasons in Jimbaran Bay. It felt luxurious. It felt grown-up. It felt... expensive.

The food? Exquisite. The sambal prawns were smoky and tender. The duck confit nasi goreng was a wild, delicious fusion. And the dessert — jackfruit crème brûlée — was something I’m still dreaming about.

Dinner set me back 950,000 IDR (about $60), including a very grown-up cocktail named “Sunburnt in Bali.” I burned my tongue on the chili rim. Worth it.

The Unexpected Romance of Satay on a Sidewalk

Late one night in Seminyak, I followed a smoky trail down a side street. There, under a flickering light bulb, a man stood fanning satay skewers over a tiny charcoal grill. I ordered without asking the price — just pointed at the ones that looked least suspicious. Chicken, I hoped.

He handed me a bundle wrapped in paper — 10 skewers, sweet soy glaze, a handful of rice cakes, and a peanut sauce that could convert the coldest soul. It cost me 25,000 IDR ($1.60), and I sat on a curb and ate every bite. A local cat stared at me the whole time. I gave him one bite. He deserved it.

Lessons from a Balinese Table

Bali taught me many things.

That spice is an art form. That rice is never just rice — it’s ritual. That the best meals aren’t always in fancy resorts but in side alleys, on banana leaves, served by people who’ve been cooking the same dish for 40 years.

I learned that you can bond with strangers over sambal, that sweet corn grilled on the beach tastes better barefoot, and that saying “yes” to street food is almost always a good idea.

Final Thoughts

They say you travel to eat, pray, or love. In Bali, I just ate. A lot. And somehow, in the crunch of sambal-fried peanuts or the sweetness of black rice pudding, I found a little of all three.

If you're ever on the island, hungry and curious, follow the smells — and bring stretchy pants.