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TeaAs I walked out of Takadanobaba Station, the smell of miso and fried chicken wafted towards me tokyoShinjuku district. It felt a world away from the neon glare of central Shinjuku – with its stampede-like crowds and a giant 3D cat that emerges meowing from a billboard every 15 minutes.
Takadanobaba is comparatively quiet, its corners protected by softly humming vending machines that dispense everything from matcha lattes to jiggly cheesecakes. The only real overlap between the two neighborhoods are the queues that emanate from KFC branches.
It was Christmas Day – my first day in a country that didn’t really follow the religious side of the holiday or the usual festive hustle and bustle. It was just another work day in Tokyo: people in business attire hurried home, trains were packed with weary commuters, and not a single liquor store was in sight. Yurakucho – right near the Imperial Palace – attempted to “European Christmas market”, although what was stocked at its stalls was far from traditional food, leaning more towards towering plates of okonomiyaki and steaming soba than hot chocolate and overpriced baubles.
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Whereas Japan This isn’t a “traditional” Christmas, there’s a food he embraces wholeheartedly at this time of year – and as you’d expect, it’s not European in the least. Instead of turkey, families line up for buckets fried chicken From KFC, a ritual so complex that booking weeks in advance is often required to secure a Christmas meal.
The story goes that Takeshi Okawara, who managed Japan’s first KFC in Nagoya, came up with the “Kentucky for Christmas” campaign in 1974 after hearing an expat comment on the absence of turkey in the country and suggesting that fried chicken was the next best festive option. The idea immediately resonated, and gradually it turned into a nationwide ritual that is still shaping Japan’s December five decades later.
Perhaps Colonel Sanders’s striking resemblance to Father Christmas – especially once dressed in red – helped customs catch on to the concept.
And after years of hearing from Japanese friends from my university days about the country’s devotion to Christmas fried chicken, a far-flung winter break finally gave me the chance to see this tradition in action.
However, one requirement hit a wall in the works: Halal chicken – something KFC Japan does not offer.
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And even if that had happened, it was too late for me to order. Luckily for me, Takadanobaba has a large and visible Muslim community, formed primarily by the international student population from Waseda University and the many language schools nearby, which attract residents from all over the world – which meant there were plenty of halal spots happily joining in on the fried chicken craze.
I walked through the back alleys of Takadabababa to Halal Master Chicken, a fried-chicken restaurant with solid Google reviews. Taking a less familiar road, I passed houses decorated with fairy lights, lonely Christmas trees standing outside small houses and, inevitably, more vending machines.
It’s notable that, despite Japan’s endless supply of treatment-delivery technology, litter is surprisingly scarce – a stark contrast to the average London street. In fact, there are almost no trash cans along Japanese streets, because taking trash home rather than throwing it out is deeply ingrained in the culture.
As soon as I reached Halal Master Chicken, there was a queue outside the restaurant, running neatly between the 7-Eleven on one side of the road and the FamilyMart on the other. A paper reads, “Christmas Fried Chicken Available Here!” It was hanging from the main door by a frayed strip of tape. Inside, every orange chair and table was occupied.
Family and friends crowded around their plates, holding Christmas-themed paper cups and buckets of fried chicken, while in the open kitchen a woman worked quickly — roasting a whole bird in a pan and grilling another on the grill next to her. The smell outside was intoxicating, and my stomach growled in agreement. The ramen I’d eaten before felt like a distant memory.
The queue was not just of Muslims waiting to sample Japan’s beloved tradition of halal – many other locals were also queuing, some frustrated by lack of space at their nearest KFC and others by the cost. A standard Christmas Party Box (or Party Barrel as nicknamed by Okawara) at KFC – eight small pieces of chicken, a prawn gratin and a chocolate cake – comes in at ¥4,580 (£23) if booked in advance.
The queue moved slowly but steadily and, once inside, I glanced at the extensive menu promising chicken in every imaginable form. I grabbed two fried bites, some chips, and a drink, but after glancing at the giant burger on a nearby table, I couldn’t resist adding that to my order.
The woman next to me noticed my gaze fixed on her food and gave a polite smile. I smiled embarrassedly, but also took it as a sign to ask some questions about the ritual and its meaning.
In between she tells me about the tradition: “We grew up seeing American pop culture celebrate Christmas, and because Japan historically didn’t have its own Christmas traditions, KFC stepped in and created a blueprint for how the holiday could be celebrated here. Maybe it filled a void?”
As well as KFC, she says food from local restaurants and 7-Elevens are a popular option – although they also sell out quickly in the run-up to Christmas.
My meal arrived in clouds of steam – a huge tray holding my fried chicken burger, topped with a sesame-seed bun, honey mustard and tomato sauce, the standard thin chips and two beautifully crispy pieces of chicken.
I mixed it with iced melon tea, which quickly became my favorite drink in Japan. The serving was so large that it was almost impossible to eat properly, but once I managed it, the feeling of inner satisfaction was unmatched. If I didn’t know better, I could easily mistake it for KFC.
The single woman in charge of both the kitchen and the crowd, seeing the sauce oozing out of the corners of my mouth, quickly walked away with a stack of tissues. I asked if Christmas was always this busy for him.
“This is definitely our busiest time,” she said, switching between English and animated hand gestures. “We get a lot of families and groups – everyone is in a good mood, and they all want their Christmas chicken, so it’s a fun day for us.”
I nodded. The place was crowded – every table was filled with people happily preparing their own version of Christmas chicken. Across the street, a small crowd was gathered outside another fried chicken shop.
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It couldn’t be further from a British Christmas – no turkey, no Brussels sprouts (a blessing, to be honest) – yet people from all over Tokyo, of different cultures, backgrounds and religions, gathered in their own ways to celebrate, just as we do at home. And in a country that doesn’t officially celebrate Christmas as a religious or cultural holiday, Japan still somehow manages to make it feel magical, with fried chicken at the center of it.