Word’s out about this 16-seater, so queue early, fly solo or bring ‘one well-chosen friend’

Sometimes it only takes a few footsteps to know: “I like this place already”. The first time I walked into Kim’s Bop in Glebe, I was instantly charmed. There was the fragrance of simmering broths; the dried chilli that co-owner Emily Tarran whimsically stuck on the wall (it covers up a protruding taphead that was no longer needed); and near the entrance, a bojagi wrapping cloth. The endearing patchwork of colourful scraps reflects a Korean craft dating back to the 14th century and immediately signals home-style comfort.

Tarran, who runs the Korean diner with chef and co-owner Byungjae Kim, tells me bojagi has been used to wrap gifts and lunchboxes and even been placed over windows, creating the multi-toned textile equivalent of stained-glass. Kim’s Bop feels exactly like that bojagi: cosy and resourceful, the handiwork clear in every detail.

On my first visit, I clocked the effort Kim put into the Korean noodle soup, which they affectionately call “soopi guksu” (guksu means noodles, “soopi” is their made-up word for the broth), particularly the elegant broth layered with nutty sesame seeds, creamy soy milk and salty flourishes of doenjang (soybean paste), nutritional yeast and soy sauce. Like many dishes here, it’s ceremonially presented on a tray with plates of extras such as soy-flavoured shiitake mushrooms, braised tofu and house-made daikon pickles.

For extra impact, spoon on the complimentary hot sauce Kim makes from gochujang (Korean chilli paste), sun-dried tomatoes and fiery sambal. Re-entering the autumn night afterwards, I felt warmed and renewed. Kim’s Bop reminded me of Yeodongsik in Eastwood: another home-style Korean diner that buzzes with good feelings.

That first encounter was during its March launch, when you could easily glide into a counter seat or grab a table. Word about Kim’s Bop has since gotten out and planning ahead is required for one of its 16 coveted seats. On two different weekends, I lined up before its 11.30am opening and my early-bird queuing was justified when the whole restaurant filled up within 20 minutes.

Although staff can shuffle tables around (like they did for one party of six), I would recommend going solo or with one well-chosen friend. You don’t need much company to recognise how good the japchae is (sweet soy sauce, charred in the pan, enhances every strand of the noodle and vegetable stir-fry). Or how grated radish, atop braised tofu, becomes luscious with a light jangle of pear notes.

On tasting the seafood soup’s delicate tones, my friend suspected the broth “cannot be rushed”. She’s right: Kim cooks the ingredients – anchovies, dried cod, seaweed, shiitake, radish – separately to optimise each flavour, never raising the heat to full boil. Udon noodles with creamy pork slices are served with a tahini-like sauce of dry-roasted perilla seeds and kimchi, evoking a Korean catfish soup the chef grew up with. During Kim’s previous market-stall era, the noodles were presented with scrambled egg as a breakfast dish. Across its three-year run at Sydney markets, Kim’s Bop also served bibimbap, but the restaurant’s version is more “home-style” and vegetable-focused, Tarran says.

The miso mushroom variant I try one weekend arrives with seaweed and sesame dusted over rice and a plate of vegetables dressed in sesame oil and plum syrup. A neighbouring diner comments on its fragrance. He’d been to Seoul recently and says Kim’s Bop “equalled” anything he had there.

Kim’s one-man kitchen is merely 2.5 metres wide, so certain market favourites – such as the Korean bento with jumbo mandu (dumplings) – couldn’t be adapted for these tight confines. But the chef maximises resources in other ways, cleverly repeating elements across the menu. Seafood broth bathes rice in one dish, then reappears as a side with dakbokkeum: gochujang-marinated chicken teamed with tteokbokki (chilli-enhanced rice cakes that are also available as a standalone order).

The intimate site recalls the compact space where Kim met Tarran over a decade ago: Antica Locanda in Tokyo, an Italian bar where they both worked. Visitors to Japan know that magic can be created with the tiniest of floor plans, and the duo have done so here with Tarran’s friendly, enthusiastic service and Kim’s restorative dishes. The chef’s efforts to make the menu vegan-friendly adds to the ultra-welcoming feel (especially as fish sauce and shrimp paste are foundational to Korean cuisine). He’s now riffing on kimchi made with papaya and grilled Brussels sprouts, which are reasons enough to return and join the growing queue.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.