The resurgence of street food stalls in Japan.

Behind tarpaulins shielding against the chilly winter air, customers sit close together on old wooden chairs around Mamichan's small kitchen. A steaming pot of oden—a Japanese hot pot—fills the tiny space with its aroma mingled with the smoke from yakitori skewers on a charcoal grill.

This is one of the yatai—mobile restaurants—that were once popular throughout Japan but have dwindled in many cities. However, in the southwestern city of Fukuoka, yatai are still maintained, compactly housed in a trailer that the owner can bring to a fixed location six nights a week, creating a unique and friendly dining experience.

Even here, one of the last strongholds of yatai, their numbers have dwindled. In 1960 there were around 400, but today there are fewer than 100. Just like in other parts of the country, local authorities are constantly trying to curb these "noisy and unsightly" nighttime food stalls that disturb residents and litter indiscriminately.

But this unique culinary tradition is becoming increasingly attractive to both domestic and international tourists, which has begun to bring about some changes in "street food culture." In 2016, the first street food business licenses in decades were granted after the city mayor decided to defend yatai. And new, creative perspectives on yatai have attracted a younger generation of customers as the topic is widely discussed on Instagram and food blogs.

Mamichan, 56, clearly enjoys the job, chatting happily with customers while cooking and serving drinks at her yatai, but she says it wasn't always like that. Her husband bought the yatai without asking her when she was just 23, and she was forced to take on the business.

Running a yatai is hard work – you open around 6 p.m. and don't close before 1 a.m. After closing, you have to clean up, pack up, and tow the cart back to the parking lot, and most of the day is spent preparing food.

"Initially, my motivation was just trying to work to support my child, and I didn't like it," Mamichan said. "There were so many young people my age, they looked so fashionable and had fun, and I thought, 'Why am I the only one doing this?'"

However, over the years, she says, she developed a sense of pride in her work and a growing appreciation for the yatai, which gave her the opportunity to interact with many different kinds of people.

"I get to meet many people, including those from outside Japan, from many countries," she said. "It feels like I've visited many countries, so I don't have to travel to different places."

While we were eating, Mamichan stood up to say goodbye to three departing guests – a young man from Tokyo and two young women from Osaka, who had become friends after sharing beer and hot bowls of noodles, and were leaving together that night.

That's the spirit of yatai. People embrace the friendliness of Fukuoka. Everyone appreciates the social connection that yatai provides, a welcome break from the rigid Japanese society. Sitting together in a cramped space and loosening up with beer and shochu – a popular local liquor on the southern island of Kyushu – people feel no need to be reserved.

"It's not just about interacting with the owner, but also with other customers—that's the appeal of a yatai," said Eiji Abe, 49, who runs a yatai called Maruyoshi. "Of course, many customers come just to drink or eat, but many enjoy socializing."

Why such a seemingly important social institution has largely disappeared in Japan is a matter of debate. Many theories exist, Eiji says, ranging from American occupation forces ordering the closure of yatai after World War II; to officials trying to tidy up cities during the Emperor's post-war visits; to a fundamental shift in the nature of Japanese streets as the increasing number of cars squeezed the yatai.

The survival of yatai in Fukuoka is largely due to the yatai owners quickly organizing into an association, but even here, they are being squeezed. A 1995 law prevented the establishment of new yatai or the transfer of licenses to anyone other than a direct relative. The yatai street in the north of the city was also closed to make way for the government-approved street vendors now scattered throughout the city.

However, it's not just about regulations, says Zackuke Kubota, 40, who runs a yatai called Telas & Mico. Changing attitudes also play a role, he says, especially among younger generations who see yatai as places for the elderly and drunken businessmen. "Young people don't think yatai are a very trendy place to hang out," Kubota says. "But I'll prove them wrong, and maybe change their minds."

The clean, minimalist design of his turquoise yatai resembles a stall in Borough Market, complemented by a distinctly British menu – homemade sausages and mashed potatoes, bruschetta, and tandoori chicken skewers. It's easy to see why Kubota began his culinary apprenticeship at a Fish & Chips shop in Plymouth during a language exchange. After interning at a number of Michelin-starred restaurants in London, he returned to Fukuoka and opened a restaurant. A few years after hearing that the government was accepting new yatai licenses, he immediately pursued the model.

"I've been to yatai (food stalls) with my father many times," he said. "But I don't want to make a traditional yatai. I want to create a new style of yatai. I want to change people's perceptions of yatai."

Kubota isn't the only one breaking the mold. Remy Grenard, a 42-year-old Frenchman, is Fukuoka's first foreign yatai owner, serving dishes you'd only find in a French pub – the snails are a big hit, he says. He lived in Japan for 18 years and previously owned a restaurant and a bakery in Fukuoka, but when the city started accepting new yatai applications, a friend encouraged him to apply.

Initially, he only worked two days a week, but as the yatai became popular, he decided to close his other restaurants to work full-time at Chez Remy yatai. "I love cooking and I love meeting people," he said, and a yatai allows him to do both at the same time.

The combination of his lively personality and reasonably priced Gallic delicacies worked very well in a country where French restaurants are typically high-end. Ultimately, however, he said that the menu wasn't the most important thing about any yatai.

"Food isn't important," he said. "The most important thing is that people enjoy themselves in Fukuoka." Borrowing a phrase from his native language, yatai means "bonhomie" (warm friendliness).

But while increasing government support and the emergence of new yatai are breathing new life into the struggling industry, the question is whether this resurgence will cause them to lose their community roots and increasingly resemble trendy food streets in every international city.

Mamichan said that years ago, customers were mostly ordinary people and businesspeople, but in recent years, tourists from Japan and neighboring countries like China and South Korea have made up the majority. "Sometimes, regular customers come in and we're so busy with tourists that there's no place for them to sit," she said. "It's a big change."

She enjoys meeting new people, but the spirit of a yatai isn't just about a fun atmosphere, Mamichan says, it's also about building relationships. She might give customers a free meal when they're in need, but people will come back and buy food when they have money. She feels some of the newer yatai are becoming more like regular restaurants.

This is easily seen in the city's Nakasu nightlife district. Representatives try to entice tourists into the yatai (street food stalls) on both sides of the canal, and long lines form outside the most popular yatai even though the season is over. Many say that yatai can be very profitable, especially if they can maintain a high customer base.

This is easily seen in the city's Nakasu nightlife district. Representatives try to subtly entice tourists into the yatai (street food stalls) along the canal, and long lines form outside the most popular yatai even after the season is over. Many say that yatai can be very profitable, especially if they can maintain a high customer base.

Kubota sees similarities with struggling pubs in England, where changing attitudes among younger generations mean fewer regulars fill the establishments every night. However, he's also inspired by the rise of upscale restaurants (gastropubs) in England and believes Fukuoka's yatai need a similar overhaul to keep up with modern tastes. He hopes to see more innovative ideas once the government accepts new applications. "Not everything needs to change, but you have to do something new," Kubota says. "This isn't the end of traditional yatai, but the ideas need to be relevant to the new generation."

And the yatai business isn't a win-win competition, Remy says. Japanese people have diverse tastes, and people often visit multiple yatai in one night, so a little variety doesn't hurt, and in fact, it can attract customers who don't frequent yatai regularly. "Customers change, people change," he says. "Tradition is important, but now we're creating the next tradition of yatai."

Ha Le