Naughty Nuri’s

It would be very easy to drive right by Naughty Nuri’s without knowing, understanding, or comprehending all the fun you’d be missing. But then, of course, that is part of its allure as an Ubud institution of longstanding; part Louisiana bayou barbecue booze shack, and partly a place where overactive imaginations and intellects go to die at sunset daily, it has more than a touch of the ‘speakeasy’ about it, and if its tables could talk they would tell a story of laughter, great conversation, and plenty of the mind-warpingly strong house special martinis.

It is a very unpretentious establishment, and to me that is its great allure as an alternative to a fixed formality that I associate with plastic smiles, foreign chefs, and cuisine which tries to be haute but discovers it can’t spell or pronounce the word. Give us barbecued ribs, towering hamburgers, fresh and flavorful tuna sashimi, ice cold beer, the aforementioned martinis, and plenty of friends, and we will give you the best night out you can imagine; for the Spanish have a saying that goes to the tune of: ‘tell me who you walk with and I’ll tell you who you are.’

To be perfectly honest, I’m tempted to write a gonzo review; the journalist living the subject and object of reporting.
I am equally tempted to write in a Joyce-like stream of words that conclude with the word ‘yes.’

But my editor would then bridle me like a donkey and so I’ll stick to formulas, which seems a terrible shame since Naughty Nuri’s is decidedly not a formulaic place.

My beautiful girlfriend (who I love dearly) and I stared into each other’s eyes over vodka martinis as Nuri’s began to fill up with regulars, tourists, and locals on a recent Thursday evening. Flame was set to the grill as the sun began to crawl over the west, staining the sky the deep blood orange color of Nuri’s barbecued Spanish sausages, which, along with a barbecued tuna steak and a crisply fresh garden salad, were whisked to our street side table by waitresses of such competence and cheer their smiles could melt a candle from thirty paces. Then another martini – this one Gibson – arrived and was shaken and poured into the waiting glass. I was obliged to lean over the table and sip from the rim lest the precious liquid overflow and drip onto the wooden table. Friends arrived, we joked, more food came, I ate the best ribs I’ve had since I was last in Memphis, dusk turned into night and the flames from the grill licked the entrance and tables in a soft glow. I kissed my girlfriend. I drank another martini. I’m going back next Thursday.

Naughty Nuri’s, Ubud, Tel. 0361-977547