Iced noodles, not Americano: I went into a coffee shop and came out with cold chicken soup

I had already hit my daily caffeine limit when I walked into a coffee shop on a recent afternoon. The last thing I needed was more coffee.

I was there for the cold chicken noodles.

The Venti, a Korean low-cost coffee franchise best known for its oversize, affordable drinks, recently launched chogye-guksu, or chilled noodles in chicken broth, as a summer menu item.

It’s hardly the first low-cost coffee chain in Korea to venture into the territory of actual meals. Mega Coffee has sold fried rice, while Compose Coffee has offered tteokbokki, or spicy rice cakes — all served in the same disposable cups used for drinks.

But noodles were a different beast altogether. They require you to slurp up your meal from plastic cups using chopsticks.

I had to give this a go, with plenty to put to the test. But most importantly, I wanted to see whether taking out a proper meal from a coffee chain could become as normal as taking out coffee.

First, though, I had to find the noodles.

Not every The Venti carries them, as individual store owners decide whether and when to offer the menu. So I opened the franchise's app and started clicking through nearby branches.

To have the noodles for dinner, I checked stores along my route to home, and only on my fourth try did I find a branch near Songpa Station in southern Seoul.

As I approached the store, I found myself feeling strangely nervous. Ordering noodles at a coffee shop suddenly seemed much weirder than I expected.

I punched in my order at the kiosk for 6,500 won ($4.50).

Waiting for my noodles, I even felt a little sorry for the employee. Presumably, they had signed up to make lattes, not somebody's meal.

But thankfully, plenty of customers were already ordering the noodles, according to the staff.

They first filled a steel coffee kettle with hot water and dropped in the noodles. Once cooked, the noodles went into the plastic cup I get with an iced coffee, already filled with icy broth from a packet, and were topped with chicken and sliced radish.

My dinner was ready in eight minutes.

A packet of spicy sauce and disposable chopsticks came on the side.

First, I needed to mix everything together. 

I found a nearby stone ledge bordering a small landscaped garden I could sit on. I took a seat and mixed everything from top to bottom.

People streamed past as I mixed the noodles, and I became increasingly aware of everyone around me.

Once the coast seemed relatively clear, I stood up, merged into the passing crowd and attempted my first bite.

Taste-wise, it was about what I expected: not quite restaurant quality, but comparable to a decent ready-made meal from a supermarket. The broth was stronger and richer than the light, clean flavor I usually associate with chogye-guksu.

Still, its thick, sweet-and-sour punch kept me going back for another slurp. The chicken was surprisingly tender too. The menu was developed in collaboration with Gilmonggaon, a chogye-guksu restaurant in Dangjin, South Chungcheong.

Most importantly, it was cold. The icy broth was refreshing enough that taste became secondary.

With noodles dangling from my chopsticks, I could feel passersby sneaking glances while pretending not to. 

But it's not like eating on the move is unusual in Korea. Street food is everywhere. And as a child, I would buy a 500 won cup of tteokbokki after school and eat it on the way home, as many other kids did.

But noodles were a completely different story. Maneuvering chopsticks while walking not only made me more self-conscious, but was much harder than I had expected. Every time I wanted a bite, I had to stop walking.

So I retreated to my stone seat, placed myself farther away from the passing crowds and finished the noodles there. With fewer eyes on me, I polished off the entire cup.

Cleanup was easy. I took the cup with me to the subway station on my way home and tossed it into a recycling bin.

For all the awkwardness, it made for a cheap and surprisingly convenient dinner.

And that may be exactly what low-cost coffee chains are betting on. Food is becoming another avenue for growth for low-cost coffee chains. Built around cheap drinks, they have little room to push coffee prices much lower, while simple meals like this give customers a reason to spend beyond their usual cup.

For the busy, and those less self-conscious than me, it's a pretty nice option. Low-cost coffee chains are everywhere, making them an easy place to pick up a quick, inexpensive meal without going far out of the way.

It could work particularly well as picnic food. Grab a cup of noodles along with drinks on the way to a Han River park meetup.

Taste-wise, however, I would still head to a bunsik (Korean street food) restaurant. For roughly the same price, I could get a freshly prepared meal.

One suggestion for coffee chains venturing into meals, though: Maybe rethink the cup.

I understand the appeal. Putting fried rice or noodles in the chain's familiar drink cup gives it a distinctly coffee-shop identity. But a translucent cup that puts everything inside on full display doesn't exactly do the food any favors.

Also, don't count on staying full for long. About an hour after getting home, I was hungry again and had a second dinner.

BY WOO JI-WON [[email protected]]