Delivering every Australian's expectations of a European-style brasserie in the tropics, Petitenget was something my travelling companions and I lazily described as 'that cute little French place on the corner'. Due no doubt to the look of the name we imagined being roughly pronounced as 'petite onjay'.
Kind of forgivable I suppose.
But not really.
For despite the fact that we were driven past this restaurant in air conditioned comfort almost twice daily for an entire week, not one of us noticed that it actually took its name from the name of the street it sits on.
By the time we did make the association it was almost time to leave the island.
And in our infinite sun-soaked wisdom felt sure the name must therefore be Dutch.
I have since discovered that this very long street and other places in the general region take their name from a local temple.
Called Temple Petitenget.
So it's a local word.
Shouldn't surprise me.
This is an area that gives us place names like Seminyak. Legian. Denpassar.
Sadly though, developing a knowledge of local language and culture, beyond 'Selamaat' and 'nasi goreng' is fairly low on the average tourist's list of Getting to Know Bali.
And I am as guilty as anybody.
Somebody who would secretly see himself as an aesthete and a linguist is actually as much a philistine as the next person.
So in blissful ignorance we supped on the slightly Asian infused essentially Mediterranean style fare we find at home.
And even though we were only there for a week, at least twice in that time we desired something 'familiar'.
But the food was great.
The service pretty good.
And the environment really very beautiful...
For anybody who enjoys Noosa, Mosman or Woollahra.
Which, apparently, we do.