AROUND 10 years ago, I was invited to Bali to celebrate a friend’s 40th birthday and, like most parties abroad, the five-day itinerary included a special dinner at the hottest seat in town – Sarong.
Being the kind of person who prefers to eat off-grid when traipsing through Asia, I went along, secretly wishing I could stay in my bathers, sit by the beach (on a plastic chair) and eat what the local wurrung was dishing up that day.
But boy, I’m glad
