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This is unexpected. I’m in a restaurant ripping open a packet of instant ramen noodles, cooking them over a gas burner at my own table, and cracking eggs into the broth I’ve made with a flavour sachet. While the noodles soften, I load up a plate from a buffet of Korean stews and snacks. I check my watch: 45 minutes to go.

Kim Soju is an all-you-can-eat restaurant. You pay as you arrive, and can feast for either 30, 60 or 90 minutes; drinks are extra.

Melbourne has many Korean barbecue restaurants offering set-price food but this is different. The roster here is broader and the offering is cheaper. It’s more like going to a generous aunty’s place: she wants you to try everything she’s been rustling up and she won’t stop until you’re full.

What might you eat? A tuna and kimchi braise is spicy and comforting. Fried chicken wings with various levels of crunch and heat await. Glass noodles are good with soy-marinated grilled beef.

Snacks are on hand too: kimchi dumplings, steamed egg pudding and spring onion pancakes are all replenished as necessary.

The help-yourself approach means this is a good place to try new things, maybe succulent braised pig’s feet, the textured Korean blood sausage called soondae, and odeng, a dough made of fish paste threaded onto skewers.

There are sweet pastries too: I love the croissant stuffed with red beans.

Owner Areum Lee came to Melbourne with $300 and a dream. For 10 years, she studied business and hospitality and worked in restaurants, saving money, developing a philosophy around the food experience she wanted to share.

She came up with this culinary lounge room, a place that encourages interaction and repeat visits, especially for people on tight budgets.

The help-yourself approach means this is a good place to try new things.

Kim Soju is cosy, with second-hand mismatched couches and tables. The fact that you’re encouraged to walk into a back area and select your instant noodles feels like a sharehouse, so sweet and inclusive.

I have misgivings about unlimited food: it’s an invitation to be greedy. When generosity is rendered as bounty, there’s the inherent probability of oversupply and waste. But I also like Kim Soju, which expresses a desire to feed community in an affordable manner.

Of course, the onus is also on the eater. Even though our consumerist society has trained us to always want more, we can reframe it with our own calibration of what is just enough.

For me here, that’s a bowl of ramen to share with a friend, a spring onion pancake, a different stew or braise or snack on each visit, and a little pastry to see me home.

Kim Soju is big-hearted for a small outlay: it won’t solve the cost-of-living crisis by itself, but it’s a cheery helping hand.