10-Side Ready Meal for £3 — GS25 Lunchbox Honest Review

Why I Ended Up at a Convenience Store at 2 in the Morning

April 2026, Daejeon — a mid-sized city in central South Korea. Around two in the morning my stomach started growling, so I opened the fridge, but it was that awkward hour where cooking felt like too much effort. My wife was busy, so asking her was out of the question, and making a single portion of rice just for myself seemed like a faff. I pulled up a delivery app, but not a single restaurant was taking orders at that time. No fried chicken, no Chinese — nothing. So I slipped on my sandals and walked five minutes to the GS25 near my flat.

That's where this caught my eye: the Hyejarowun Hansang Lunchbox Vol. 2 (혜자로운 한상가득도시락2편), one of GS25's flagship ready meals. I'd had a decent experience with a previous convenience store lunchbox, so I figured I'd give this one a go. At ₩5,900 — roughly £3 — plus a drink, a warm meal from a 24-hour shop was the only realistic option at that hour.

First Impressions and Label Details

The front of the packaging features a photo of Kim Hyeja, the beloved Korean actress the range is named after, alongside the message "For the days you miss a warm home-cooked meal — eat well." Reading that alone at 2am hit differently, I won't lie. The label listed a price of ₩5,900 (about £3), a weight of 479 grams, and 818 kilocalories. The previous version I'd tried was ₩5,400 (around £2.70), so it's crept up by roughly 30p, but the side-dish lineup looked more varied this time. Hopes suitably raised, I took it home.

Lifting the Lid

Peeled off the label and popped the lid. A slice of Spam sat broad and proud on top of the rice, while the left-hand compartments were taken up by generous-looking red-sauced meat. Up top I could see two quail eggs, gimjaban (finely crumbled dried seaweed tossed in seasoning — a classic Korean side), a piece of seasoned fried something, bean sprouts, and a wedge of egg omelette. Not a single compartment empty.

Full Layout from Above, Film Removed

Once I stripped off the cling film and looked straight down, I counted ten compartments — every single one filled. The large centre section held rice and Spam; to the left, spicy pork across two slots; then along the top row: stir-fried fish cake, a fried piece, stir-fried kimchi, bean sprouts, egg omelette, quail eggs, and seaweed flakes. For a convenience store ready meal under £3, the spread looked generous — though the compartments were quite shallow, so the real test would be in the eating. I microwaved it for two and a half minutes back at home and set it down on the table.

Going Through Each Side Dish

Chicken, Stir-Fried Kimchi, and Shredded Potato

The left compartment held a piece of chicken that was somewhere between sweet-glazed Korean fried chicken and plain fried — a sort of halfway house. Not tough, not soggy either; an oddly pleasant texture that, for a microwaved chicken piece, was honestly not bad at all. Next to it sat stir-fried kimchi and sautéed shredded potato side by side, though the potato shreds had escaped their compartment and wandered into the kimchi zone — must have shifted on the walk home. The stir-fried kimchi was the standout side from the last lunchbox I tried, so expectations were high again.

Stir-Fried Fish Cake and Braised Quail Eggs

Three slices of stir-fried eomuk — fish cake, basically minced fish pressed flat and sliced into rectangles, then simmered in soy sauce — stacked on top of each other. A scattering of sesame seeds on top, though the pale colour suggested the seasoning was fairly mild. Below them, two braised quail eggs in a sweet soy glaze. Two eggs means one bite each, and that felt a bit stingy, if I'm honest.

Seasoned Spinach

Sigeumchi-namul is blanched spinach dressed with sesame oil, salt, and ground sesame — a staple Korean side. In this lunchbox, they'd been fairly heavy-handed with the soy sauce, leaving the spinach almost dark brown and noticeably salty. On its own it was a bit much, but piled on top of rice, the balance evened out. One chopstick-load and it was gone, but wedged between all the richer sides, it did a solid job of resetting the palate.

Spicy Pork — Tasty, but Over Too Quickly

Jeyuk-bokkeum is pork stir-fried in a fiery gochujang (red chilli paste) sauce — one of Korea's most popular rice-topping dishes. I picked up a piece with my chopsticks; spring onion and sesame clung to the meat, and the moment it hit my tongue a punch of spicy, savoury flavour spread right through. The kind of taste where one bite automatically demands a spoonful of rice. The problem? With so many compartments to fill, the star of the show barely got its own spotlight. Three or four pieces was the lot, gone in two mouthfuls.

Ketchup-Glazed Ham — A Proper Rice Thief

This one was thinly sliced ham tossed in a ketchup-style sauce. Despite the sweet look, the salt hit first. On its own, it was on the salty side — you needed a proper heap of rice alongside it to balance things out. Like the spicy pork before it, this side absolutely demolished the rice supply. Ten compartments of sides, one compartment of rice: I was already getting a sinking feeling that the rice wasn't going to last the course.

Seasoned Dumplings — Honestly, a Letdown

The seasoned dumplings, and I'll be straight — these were the weak link. The dumpling itself was a perfectly ordinary meat mandu, but they'd drizzled a sweet-and-spicy sauce over it that just didn't work. If they'd left them plain, I could've at least dipped them in soy sauce. Apparently these seasoned dumplings pop up across the wider Hyejarowun lunchbox range too, which is a shame. I'd have swapped this compartment for more of that stir-fried kimchi in a heartbeat.

The Spam on Rice, and the Moment You Run Out

Now for the Spam on rice. Spam — tinned pork luncheon meat — is something of a national staple in South Korea, eaten on rice or tossed into kimchi stew. After microwaving, the edges glistened with a thin film of fat and that familiar salty aroma rose up. One bite with a clump of rice and, honestly, it was just lovely. But there's only the one slice, so even rationing it carefully, three or four bites and it was done.

Picking it up with chopsticks, I noticed the slice was a decent thickness. It tasted milder than the Spam I'm used to — whether they've adjusted the salt for the lunchbox format or used a different product, I'm not sure, but the restraint was welcome. The overall meal leaned salty as it was; if the Spam had been intense as well, it would've been too much. Eaten with rice, a savoury richness came through first.

The Last Piece of Spicy Pork

The very last piece of spicy pork. Still tasted brilliant — but that really was it. More than half the rice was still sitting there, yet the best side dish had already gone. Bit deflating, that.

Sweet Glazed Chicken — Solid for a Convenience Store

I picked up a piece of dakgangjeong — Korean sweet-glazed fried chicken. It wasn't crispy, no surprise given it had been microwaved. More soft than soggy though, so it wasn't unpleasant, and there was a reasonable amount of actual chicken inside. A mildly sweet glaze had soaked in nicely, and as a microwave meal side dish, it did the job well enough.

Seasoned Dumplings, One More Try — Still No

I gave the seasoned dumplings one last chance, and the sauce was still the problem. It had soaked right into the wrapper, leaving it damp and claggy, while the filling was just bland mince. The whole thing was flat. If that one compartment had held literally anything else, the entire meal's score would've jumped. Can't help feeling that way.

Shelf Life and Quality Control — Why Convenience Store Meals Feel Safe

The label prints both the manufacturing date and the use-by deadline. This particular lunchbox was made on 26 April 2026 at 8:00am, with a use-by of 28 April at 8:00am. Once that window passes, the barcode simply won't scan at the till — the system physically blocks the sale. That means every lunchbox on the shelf is guaranteed to be within date, which is reassuring as long as the chiller's doing its job. The label colour even changes between red and blue depending on the production time slot, helping staff manage stock rotation at a glance.

Final Verdict on the Hyejarowun Hansang Lunchbox Vol. 2

Whether it's two in the morning or four, as long as there's stock on the shelf you can buy one, and two and a half minutes in the microwave gets you a warm, proper meal. Prices have crept up, sure, but at ₩5,900 (roughly £3) it's still cheaper than eating out for a single meal. Being able to sample over ten different sides in one sitting is this range's real selling point, and the fact that the till literally refuses to sell anything past its use-by date gives genuine peace of mind.

The flip side of having so many sides is that you'll inevitably get one or two you don't fancy. The seasoned dumplings were exactly that for me this time. Personal taste, obviously, but with ten compartments there's a decent chance one will miss the mark — and because the space is split so many ways, each portion is more of a taster than a proper serving. When something as good as the spicy pork runs out after three or four bites, you can't help feeling short-changed. Then again, the name Hyejarowun Hansang — literally "Hyeja's generous full table" — promises a little bit of everything rather than a lot of one thing, and on those terms, it delivers exactly what it says on the tin.

Clearing Up an Empty Lunchbox at 3am

I polished it all off and set the empty container by the sink. The clock said gone three in the morning. Barely an hour since I'd shuffled out in my sandals, and now I was full up with nothing to wash. I switched the light off, crawled under the duvet, and told myself I'd cook properly tomorrow. Though deep down, I already knew I'd probably end up doing the exact same thing again.