I'm sitting on a wobbly stool at one of the yatai – street stalls – that line the banks of the Naka river in Fukuoka each evening. There is always a crush. As I drink pink plum wine from a thick glass tumbler, I'm cheek to cheek with locals on their way home from work, a couple of American tourists and a camera-happy Korean food blogger. Puffs of smoke and the occasional crackles and sparks come from a small black grill at the back of the stall, the hands-on cooking hidden by a counter display of skewered meat, prawns and asparagus.
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