The Flavor of Bali, at Roadside Stands Basil Childers for The New York Times Some of the preparation for Naughty Nuri's, north of Ubud, take place out front. But one night a week, sushi night, involves less cooking. THERE are two kinds of culinary travelers who end up on Bali: ones who don't flinch at spending hundreds of dollars for a bottle of Rioja at a trendy Asian-French fusion restaurant, and those who are obsessive about going as local as possible, searching out the most authentic Balinese meal, a box of Imodium A-D always at their side. You'll find the latter at Bali's many streetside food vendors known as warungs. Scattered throughout Indonesia, warungs usually occupy a modest shack or roadside lean-to with a small counter and a bench where customers sit and eat traditional dishes. The bigger ones are no more than no-frills cafes, sometimes fashioned out of modest materials like rattan and corrugated metal. While guidebooks and hotel concierges may warn you that eating at a warung is a little like playing Russian roulette with your stomach, they are probably being overly cautious. The truth is that the street food in tourist-friendly Bali is as sanitary as what you'd find in most American cities, if not more so. Besides, if you heed their warning, you'll miss some of the best food the island has to offer, from melt-in-your-mouth roast pig and fish satays to just-caught sashimi and spicy fried rice served with chicken prepared three ways. Not to mention, it's cheap; you can feast for less than $3. Ibu Oka Several years ago I asked Chris Salans, the celebrated chef at Mozaic restaurant in Ubud - and one of Bali's most dedicated food lovers - for his favorite warung. He answered without hesitation: "Ibu Oka in Ubud. No one does suckling pork like they do. Situated off Ubud's main street on Jalan Suweta, Ibu Oka is open only for lunch. Look for a line of motorcycles parked out front and a bright red sign featuring a whole roasted pig. And then you'll see the crowds - locals and tourists crammed together under red Coca-Cola umbrellas. Thanks to the ravings on foodie blogs like Eating Asia, and an episode of "Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations," where the host declared its babi guling, or roast pig, the best that he's ever had, Ibu Oka has become a tourist magnet. Every afternoon it's packed. Despite the fact that you might share the place with a busload of Japanese tourists, it's still serving some of the island's best babi guling: generous chunks of tender roasted pork served with thick, crispy skin. The Nasi Babi Guling special - served with a fiery red sauce over local greens, cooked jackfruit and coconut-infused rice - is 25,000 rupiah (about $2.70 at 9,241 rupiah to the dollar). Each pig is stuffed with a secret blend of Balinese spices (I tasted garlic, galangal, turmeric and definitely chili) and spit-roasted over an open fire for about five hours while basted with coconut milk. On busy afternoons, Ibu Oka goes through eight pigs. Merta Sari Luckily, Mr. Bourdain hasn't made it to Merta Sari. Situated in the small village of Pesinggahan on Bali's east coast, it is known island-wide for its sate lilit ikan, a minced fish satay. Families come great distances to sit in this dusty roadside stall with nothing but a thatched roof and a bunch of plastic tables. It's especially jammed when there's a Bali Hindu ceremony going on at the nearby temple of Goa Lawah, which means Bat Cave. There is a deep cavern in the center of the ancient temple filled with thousands of fruit bats. I stopped by Merta Sari on a late Tuesday afternoon with Ben Ripple, an American expatriate who owns Big Tree Farms, which manufactures and exports sea salt and other Indonesian artisanal products out of Bali. We grabbed some sodas near the kitchen and sat at a wobbly plastic table covered with a bright turquoise plastic tablecloth. About 10 minutes later, a mini-banquet was served on mismatched plates: a bowl of fiery fish soup; a mountain of rice; just-fried peanuts; spicy green beans with shredded coconut; and the main dish, a variation of fish on a stick, including the lilit. There were also ikan pepes, minced fish steamed with Balinese spices in banana leaves. "You throw a little bit of everything on your plate," said Mr. Ripple, who he said, stops by almost every time he checks in on the farmers who hand-produce his salt up the road. The lilit ikan was spicy and sweet. Eaten with the rice, string beans and the crunchy peanuts, it was a little like taking a bite of the landscape: fishing boats, small crystalline beaches and valleys thick with palm trees. Ayam Taliwang Mr. Ripple also introduced me to Ayam Taliwang, a dusty streetside cafe on the busy road between Gianyar and Ubud. Ayam Taliwang is both the name of the warung and the name of its signature dish, considered to be one of the most addictive chicken recipes on the island. When I arrived, a few locals were sitting at rickety tables licking their red-stained fingers, completely focused on eating.