I don’t know where the food is coming from. I don’t know where the frying pans are coming from. Where on Earth is the flavour coming from? Though I have a front-row view of the compact kitchen – if you can call it that – I’m struggling to keep up with the portly man in a tea-towel bandana who is swiftly pulling out and putting away pots, pans, oils and spices from some kind of Mary Poppins cupboard.

He silently snatches at notes passed to him by his colleague, scans the scribbled order, then sets to work at his small cooktop, preparing oden (a simple hot pot), yakitori and some of the best dumplings I’ve ever had.

My partner and I sit tightly wedged between Fukuoka locals along an angular U-shaped bar – two people on our left, eight on our right. It’s a full house. We’ve been shuffled into the tent-like structure by a man whose sole job is shepherding the crowd that is quickly multiplying on the footpath outside, and a third man has slapped a paper menu scrawled with Japanese characters in front of us. None of the men are rude, just efficient.

This is the nightly dance of Fukuoka’s yatai – temporary food stalls that pop up every evening from about 6pm until beyond midnight. Think Singapore’s hawker stalls, but with a Cinderella-esque directive to vanish before daybreak to avoid turning into a dumpling (or breaching city regulations, rather).

Yatai were once found all over Japan, with soba vendors thought to have kicked off the trend during the Edo period (1603–1868). These days, however, yatai are synonymous with Fukuoka, which hosts about 100 stalls across the city every night.

The triumph of yatai culture in Fukuoka amid its demise in other Japanese cities is curious, so, between slurps of rich tonkotsu ramen (a Fukuoka specialty), I ask a local what she believes to be the reason. “Mmm, I think we are more resilient … or, resistant, maybe,” she says slowly, searching for the right word. Then, covering her mouth to stifle a shy giggle, she adds, “Oh, and we really like to eat.”

On face value – with their eight to 15 stools, hack kitchen and awnings that pop out like Buzz Lightyear wings before service – yatai look like a casual affair, but the tightly regulated establishments have long been embroiled in politics.

Rewinding to the 1960s, Fukuoka’s yatai scene flourished in a pendulum swing away from the ban imposed on food stalls during World War II. At its peak, more than 400 stalls operated across the city, but hygiene concerns, unpaid rent and neighbourly tiffs marred the industry and the number fell to about 220 in the mid-’90s.