Popular media and western subculture have simultaneously painted Bali as the ultimate lover’s escape and spiritual retreat, beckoning a motley crue of paramours, practicing yogis, and starry-eyed digital nomads. It’s true the island offers no shortage of romantic accommodations, whether you and your beloved prefer some ultra luxe relaxing by the beach or getting lost in a high jungle treehouse lodge. Bali also boasts more than ten thousand temples, an ubiquitous reminder of the island’s unique Hindu culture, an outlier among the predominantly Muslim archipelago. So when I found myself - an anxious kvetch who worships only at the altar of Julia Roberts - presented with a chance to travel to Bali, I boldly took it upon myself to eat, eat, eat. While the island’s culinary scene remains relatively unsung, I enjoyed exceptional Indonesian fare in high-end hotels and casual streetside eateries alike.

Fresh off a redeye from Hong Kong, I hopped in a cab at Denpasar’s Ngusti Rah Airport and headed south for the Bukit Peninsula, inching by Jimbaran Beach and its famous seafood shacks amidst the thrum of scooters in rush hour traffic. Pulling into Alila Villas Uluwatu, I felt a sense of relaxation immediately wash over me (a complimentary mini massage during check-in might have been the culprit). The group’s newest Bali property comprises a series of minimalist villas built from reclaimed materials along a cliff, each with sweeping views of the Indian Ocean.

After a day of R&R (read: housing room service breakfast and promptly passing out next to my pool), we sauntered down to The Warung, the hotel’s Indonesian restaurant. Chef Ananta Pura’s menu offers an ambitious spread of regional dishes, with notes on the origins of each and suggested pairings - faced with decision fatigue and some lingering jetlag, we opted for the megibung, a family-style mix of dishes served on a shared banana leaf platter. Dinner began with twelve different sambals - chile-flecked sauces, relishes, pastes and pickles - alongside kerupuk udang (prawn crackers) and kerupuk emping (bean crackers). Plated in the style of a congklak, a traditional Indonesian board game, inviting us to play with different pairings in search of our favorite bite.

The megibung combined nine dishes, traversing a range of textures, flavors, and temperatures: Saté lilit ikan, a smoky minced fish skewer perfumed with herbs; lawar udang, a curried green papaya salad tossed with prawns; lawar ayam, a curried yardlong bean salad with minced chicken; sambel be tongkol, grilled tuna flaked and dressed with shallot and lemongrass relish; siap base kalas, a hearty braise of chicken legs stewed in yellow coconut gravy; strombotan, a bright salad dressed with peanut sauce; bebek goreng, crispy fried duck; babi panggang, charred pork ribs with a sweet soy glaze; and nasi merah, steamed red rice. Es puter, a traditional coconut sorbet, was at once rich and refreshing, the ideal palate cleanser and closer for a meal of such proportions.

The following morning we cycled along the Bukit peninsula, passing through the dramatic cliff-lined Pantai Batu Barak down to the picturesque Melasti Beach. Coasting along roads sprinkled with canang sari - handcrafted palm leaf parcels packed with rice, flowers, food, cigarettes, and incense offered daily to the gods - we caught sight of the Garuda Wisnu Kencana, a towering contemporary Hindu cult statue, which also serves as a monument to the complex and at times controversial relationship between spirituality and corporate development on the island.

Having worked up an appetite, we hopped in a cab to Nusa Dua, eager to sample a couple warungs - informal, indoor/outdoor cafes and eateries - that had been recommended to us by the front desk staff. At Babi Guling Pak Dobil, we indulged in hefty platters of suckling pig, massaged inside and out with a fragrant mix of garlic, ginger, and chilies. Served with lacquered shards of skin, garlicky rice, and a bowl of turmeric-tinged broth, the eponymous dish was deeply flavorful and extremely satisfying (all the more so considering the expeditious service), yet we soldiered on, eager to try the staff’s second recommendation. At Nasi Ayam Ibu Oki, we enjoyed yet another feast of chicken - roasted, grilled in satay, and ground into lawar ayam with coconut and long beans, plus a bowl of rich brown double stock. Comically full, we returned to the hotel, where we had no further afternoon plans aside from a stroll along the beach.

The ten thousand-step journey down the cliffs and back offered a solid buffer before our farewell dinner at the Warung - this time we went a la carte, sampling a handful of regional Balinese dishes alongside chef’s signature beef rendang, a braise traditionally served at Eid during Ramadan. Although Indonesia has the largest Muslim population in the world, Bali is majority Hindu, so it was a treat to savor this particular rendang - a family recipe passed down through three generations.

Our third day we had planned to travel to Alila Ubud, two hours north into the highland jungle. Overcast skies eventually gave way to showers as we pulled over for a pitstop at Jimbaran market, a bustling wet market that supplies many of the island’s premier hotels and restaurants with seafood. Surveying the aisles, we eventually settled on head-on prawns and a whole snapper. We took our purchases to a kitschy nearby cafe, where both were butterflied, slathered with sambals and garlic, and grilled for a modest fare. Paired with a couple cold beers and sauteed water spinach, the meal more than made up for the less than favorable weather.

Shortly after checking into our hotel, we turned right around and got back in the car to meet Chef Pam Yung for dinner in Canggu, a resort town adjacent to Seminyak most famous for its surf culture and nightlife offerings - some friends and fellow cooks were in town from Bangkok and Sydney for a “pizza rave” at Luigi’s Hot Pizza, a sourdough pizzeria in theory but more of a club in practice. Candidly this was not my scene, but in the name of honest reporting, we ordered the lot of specialty pies, inventively topped with combinations like prawns, corn, and a spiral of ranch, or a piquant green curry pesto with makrut lime leaf breadcrumbs.

While Ubud and Uluwatu are arguably the most established faces of Bali’s tourism industry, the eastern region of the island represents the road less traveled by. The highways narrowed as we crept our way along the coast toward the Karangasem Regency, a lush agricultural region in the shadow of Mount Agung. It’s not that Manggis is “untouched” exactly: Aman has operated the Amankila here since the early 90’s, but the group’s founder simultaneously oversaw the development of Serai Manggis, now Alila Manggis, an understated boutique hotel evoking a quieter time predating Bali’s tourism boom. The structures emphasize outdoor living, with alang alang thatched roofing and the same long bladed grasses featured throughout the landscaping surrounding. We lazed by a tranquil pool at the property’s center, enjoying cool iced tea and the gentle sound of waves lapping at the edge of the bay.

That evening, we tucked into another megibung supper at Seasalt, the on-site restaurant at Alila Manggis. Presented to us on an intricately carved Dulang stand, the meal bore the visual trappings of ritual feast. Despite the formality, megibung is rooted in sharing and togetherness. As we sampled the ten or so offerings, our server explained that history traces the megibung back to the 17th century King Anglurah Karangasem, who commanded his troops to share a meal together to celebrate victories in Lombok, reinforcing connection and leveling social hierarchies. This practice soon trickled down to the local level, with villages organizing their own megibung feasts, prepared in a dedicated banjar kitchen and served to the local community. With two megibung under my belt, I was pleasantly surprised. My preliminary research on where to eat in Bali yielded countless recommendations for “amazing burrata” and “incredible sushi” - to see these vibrant combinations of Indonesian sates, salads, and stews placed on the same pedestal as the “gourmet” fare most often celebrated in the west was refreshing.

Eager to explore the eastern landscape, our next and final morning we embarked on another cycling trip, starting near Sogra and proceeding down the forested slopes of Mount Agung. We stopped along the way to peek into fields full of spiny snakefruit trees and up into the canopy of coconut palms, which had been tapped for sap to make arrack, a local palm wine. A roadside fruit vendor offered us two different varieties of snakefruit, sweet and sour, as well as lobes of freshly cracked durian. Eventually the hills gave way to flatter fields planted with rice and peanuts, and finally, a forested path within earshot of the ocean. The path spat us out at the edge of Pantai Patir Pusuh, the so-called Virgin Beach named for its exceptionally white sands, where we enjoyed a lunch of grilled fish.

After a final Balinese massage (booked in anticipation of the 24 hour journey home), we sat down to our final dinner at Seasalt: Bebek Betutu, a deeply flavorful duck marinated in tamarind, coconut oil, and a traditional spice paste called Bumbu Bali. The bird is wrapped in banana leaves and coconut bark then cooked low and slow over coals, the pungent paste flavoring the meat as it steams. Served with duck eggs, pandan-scented rice, cassava leaves and long beans, it was hard to imagine a more perfect send-off than this labor of love.