I realise my food posts are really not geared toward our vegan and vegetarian friends, and while we usually eat very little meat I feel following a plant-based diet in Bali would be forgoing the majority of amazing traditional dishes Bali has to offer.

I had my first Babi Guling at a small warung on the top of Jalan Legian in Seminyak more than ten years ago, and it used to be our go-to. It was always a bit of a special treat, only available at lunchtime, you had to get the timing right.

Baby Guling is a whole suckling pig, and respectfully, every part of the animal is used and transformed to make the most out of it in flavour and texture.

Let’s start on the outside. There is the obligatory crackling. I thought Germans had that covered, but I had the best-ever crackling done Balinese style. Intestines and offal are either deep-fried for the texture or made into flavoursome sausages. The meat is shredded or finely cut and elevated with Balinese spices such as Lemongrass, Coriander and Turmeric. There is of course Sate and the dish, as always, is complete only with a small amount of vegetables, sambal and rice.

It turned out our go-to got fairly popular and had changed location to a bigger shed down Sunset Road. We couldn’t wait to get our Babi Guling fix, and as we drive up the entrance was cluttered with cars and drivers. Huh, got really popular it seemed! Undeterred we pushed down a side street, parked and dragged the kids through the glaring sun under the promise of a life-changing pork dish.

We were met with a gathering of grumpy tourists lining up at the entrance to a dingy, dark room, that actually emanated a quite unpleasant smell. We slinked away with drooping shoulders – our go-to was gone, swallowed up by its own popularity into a tourist-guide destination. I browsed some reviews shortly after and yep, it seems it has jumped the shark.

But doesn’t Google always have another suggestion, promising a very highly rated Babi Guling place a lot closer to our home base.

But, who would have thought, Google isn’t always right. Another dingy den, but hey – the reviews are good, so we entered and ordered. The extra large portion.

It was probably the grossest pork I’ve eaten in quite a while. Thick, dry, floater-like-looking chunks of pig, none of the fragrant seasoning, no picturesque assembly of the expected condiments. It was yucky, and we politely chewed a couple of bits before I just couldn’t do it anymore.

But the best thing about travelling is what you discover when you aren’t looking.

The monsoon had rendered the surf and beach useless so we went for a drive into the hills, the Klunkung Regency just an hour out of Denpasar. I highly recommend doing that, just driving outside of the main tourist areas and having a look at the villages. One of the friendly staff at our homestay, Ketut, comes from the area and spoke about a wave near there (it’s a local spot and protected – no sharing of these). Winding, choke-point roads lead through the villages in the shadow of Mount Agung, lined with small shops, meeting places, and crouching dwellings in random clusters.

We had no particular plan or destination, so I’m sure there is lots more to explore (I will write about the waterfall we visited at some stage.)

But this is a post about Babi Guling so after shoe-horning our car through some windy ‘gangs’ we arrived at a large, airy, double-storey building among rice fields, brimming with locals.

Welcoming us at the entrance, a glistening, brown suckling pig, ready for the shaving. Sitting on the breezy top level we were finally served a magnificent version.

The meat was succulent, the sambal spicy, and the plate a perfect example of the vibrancy that is the trademark for Balinese culinary, with care taken in preparation and presentation. Even in the simplest of Nasi Campur warungs I’ve noticed the assembly of the plate is never a random heaping of the elements, if pride is taken in the food they serve.

Babi Guling can be ordered ‘tidak pedas’ (not spicey), but who are we kidding, even the non-spicey version sends a western palate down a burning inferno. Kids will have to grow a bit of callus on their tongues.