10-Side Lunchbox for $4 — GS25 Late Night Meal Review

Why I Walked to a Convenience Store at 2 AM

April 2026, Daejeon — a mid-sized city in central South Korea. Around 2 AM I opened the fridge hoping something would jump out at me, but it was that awkward hour where cooking felt like way too much effort. My wife was busy, so asking her was off the table, and making a single serving of rice just for myself seemed absurd. I pulled up a delivery app, but not a single restaurant was taking orders — no fried chicken, no Chinese takeout, nothing. So I slipped on my sandals and shuffled five minutes down the road to the nearest GS25, one of South Korea's biggest 24-hour convenience store chains.

That's where I spotted the Hyejarowun Hansang Lunchbox Vol. 2 — roughly translating to "generous full-spread lunchbox." I'd tried a different convenience store lunchbox not long ago and it was surprisingly decent, so I grabbed this one without thinking twice. At about $4.25 for a hot meal plus a drink, a 24-hour convenience store was literally my only lifeline for a warm dinner at that hour.

What the Packaging Looks Like

The front of the box features a photo of Kim Hye-ja, a beloved Korean actress who's basically the face of this lunchbox line, along with a message that roughly says "For days when you miss a warm home-cooked meal, eat up." Reading that alone in my kitchen at 2 AM hit a little different, honestly. The label listed a price of 5,900 won (about $4.25), a net weight of 479 grams (roughly 1 lb), and 818 calories. The previous version I'd tried was 5,400 won, so it went up about 35 cents, but the side dish lineup looked more varied this time. I carried it home with cautious optimism.

First Look Inside the Box

I peeled off the label and popped the lid. A thick slice of Spam sat right on top of the rice in the center, and to the left, red-sauced spicy pork filled two compartments with a pretty generous-looking portion. Along the top I could see two quail eggs, gimjaban (crumbled roasted seaweed tossed in sesame oil — a common Korean side dish), a piece of seasoned fried something, bean sprouts, and a slice of egg omelette. Not a single compartment was empty.

The Full Spread from Above — All 10 Compartments

After pulling off the plastic film, I got the full overhead view. Ten compartments, every one of them filled. The big center section held rice and Spam. The left side had spicy pork across two slots. The top row was stacked with stir-fried fish cake, a fried piece of something, stir-fried kimchi, bean sprouts, egg omelette, quail eggs, and seaweed flakes. For a $4 convenience store lunchbox, the spread looked impressive — though the compartments were pretty shallow, so I figured the actual portions might tell a different story once I started eating. I microwaved it for 2 minutes and 30 seconds, then set it down on the table.

Going Through Each Side Dish

Chicken, Stir-Fried Kimchi, and Shredded Potato

The piece in the left compartment wasn't quite sweet-and-sticky chicken nuggets and wasn't quite fried chicken either — somewhere in between. The texture hit this odd middle ground, not crunchy but not mushy, and for microwaved chicken in a lunchbox, I thought it was perfectly fine. Next to it sat stir-fried kimchi and stir-fried shredded potatoes side by side, though the potatoes had slid over into the kimchi compartment — must've shifted during my walk home. The stir-fried kimchi was the best side in the last lunchbox I tried, so I had high hopes for this round too.

Fish Cake Stir-Fry and Soy-Braised Quail Eggs

Three slices of eomuk — Korean fish cake made from ground fish pressed into flat sheets — were stacked in one compartment, cut into squares and braised in soy sauce. A light sprinkle of sesame seeds sat on top, but the color was pale enough that I could tell the seasoning wasn't too heavy. Below that, two tiny quail eggs braised in soy sauce. Two. That's one per bite and then they're gone. A little underwhelming, honestly.

Seasoned Spinach

Sigeumchi namul — blanched spinach dressed with sesame oil, salt, and crushed sesame seeds — is one of the most common Korean side dishes you'll find. In this lunchbox, they went heavy on the soy sauce, turning it almost dark brown and pushing it to the salty side. It worked better spooned on top of rice than eaten solo. The portion was maybe one chopstick-grab's worth, but sandwiched between all the oily, rich sides, it did its job as a palate cleanser.

Spicy Pork Stir-Fry — Great Taste, Not Enough of It

Jeyuk bokkeum is pork stir-fried in gochujang (Korean red chili paste) — a staple comfort dish. I picked up a piece with my chopsticks and it came up with bits of green onion and sesame seeds clinging to it. The moment it hit my tongue, the spicy-savory sauce spread fast. It's the kind of flavor where one bite of meat automatically demands a big scoop of rice to chase it. The problem? With so many compartments to fill, this main dish didn't get the real estate it deserved. Three or four pieces was all there was, gone in two or three bites.

Ketchup-Glazed Ham Stir-Fry — A Serious Rice Thief

This one was thinly sliced ham tossed in a ketchup-like sauce. Despite the ketchup, the dominant flavor was salty rather than sweet. Eating it alone was a bit much — you really needed a heaping spoonful of rice to balance it out. Between this and the spicy pork, both demanding tons of rice per bite, I started doing the math. Ten compartments of side dishes versus one compartment of rice. I had a sinking feeling the rice was going to run out way before the sides did.

Sauced Dumplings — Honestly, These Were a Miss

The sauced dumplings — and I'll be straight with you — these were a letdown. The dumplings themselves were generic meat-filled ones, nothing wrong there, but they were drowned in this sweet-spicy sauce that just didn't work with the filling. If they'd left them plain, I could've at least dipped them in soy sauce. Apparently these sauced dumplings show up across the whole Hyejarowun lunchbox series, which is a shame. I would've gladly traded this compartment for more of that stir-fried kimchi.

The Spam on Rice, and the Moment the Rice Ran Out

Now, the Spam. For anyone unfamiliar, Spam is a canned pork product that's practically a national side dish in Korea — people eat it on rice, throw it in kimchi stew, you name it. After microwaving, the edges glistened with a thin sheen of oil and that salty, savory aroma came wafting up. One bite with rice and it was just... good. Simple, satisfying, good. But there was only one slice, and even rationing it carefully, it lasted maybe three or four bites.

Picking it up with chopsticks, the slice was thicker than I expected. It also tasted less salty than the Spam I'm used to — whether they adjusted the sodium for the lunchbox or used a different product, I'm not sure, but it worked in this context. The overall lunchbox already skewed salty, so if the Spam had been intense too, the whole thing would've been overwhelming. Eaten with rice, the savory, almost buttery flavor came through first.

The Last Bite of Spicy Pork

The final piece of spicy pork. Still delicious, but this was truly the end of it. I had more than half my rice left and the best side dish was already gone. Kind of a bummer.

Sweet Crispy Chicken — Solid for a Convenience Store

I picked up one of the dakgangjeong pieces — Korean-style sweet crispy chicken. It wasn't crispy, obviously. You can't microwave fried food and expect crunch. But instead of being unpleasantly soggy, it had this soft, chewy texture that was totally acceptable. There was actual chicken inside too, not just breading, and the sweet glaze had soaked in nicely. For a convenience store lunchbox side, I had zero complaints.

Sauced Dumplings, One More Try — Still Nope

I gave the sauced dumplings one last shot. Still the same issue — the sauce had fully soaked into the wrapper, making it soggy, and the filling inside was just bland ground meat. The whole thing was flat and forgettable. If this one compartment had been literally any other side dish, the overall satisfaction level would've jumped significantly. Can't help but feel that way.

Freshness and Quality Control — Why Convenience Store Lunchboxes Feel Safe

The label on the lunchbox shows both the production date and the use-by date. This one was made on April 26, 2026 at 8:00 AM, with a use-by deadline of April 28 at 8:00 AM — a 48-hour window. Once that deadline passes, the barcode won't scan at the register, so it literally cannot be sold. That means every lunchbox sitting on the shelf is guaranteed to be within its freshness window. As long as the store keeps its fridge running properly, there's really no reason to worry about quality. The label color even changes — red or blue — depending on the production time slot, which helps store employees manage rotation efficiently.

Final Verdict on the Hyejarowun Lunchbox Vol. 2

Whether it's 2 AM or 4 AM, as long as there's stock on the shelf, you can buy one. Microwave it for 2 minutes and 30 seconds at home and you've got a warm, full meal. Prices have crept up, sure, but about $4.25 is still cheaper than eating out for a single meal in Korea. Getting to sample over 10 different side dishes in one box is this series' biggest selling point, and the built-in expiration lockout at the register gives you peace of mind about freshness.

The flip side of having so many sides is that you're bound to hit one you don't love. The sauced dumplings were exactly that for me this time. It's subjective, but you should expect that one or two out of ten compartments might not land for you. And because there are so many sides, each individual portion is basically a tasting size. When something as good as the spicy pork runs out after three or four bites, it stings a little. But the name itself — "generous full-spread" — tells you the whole concept is about variety over volume, and on that promise, it honestly delivers.

3 AM, Tossing the Empty Box

I set the empty container in the sink and glanced at the clock — already past 3 AM. It had been barely an hour since I'd shuffled out in my sandals, and now my stomach was full with nothing to wash up. As I turned off the lights and crawled under the covers, I told myself I'd actually cook tomorrow. But deep down, I already knew I'd probably end up doing the exact same thing.