It started with a line. A real one, in a campus cafe — too slow, too long, too common. I remember wondering why ordering food in the age of mobile-first everything still felt so analog.

I wasn’t trying to build the next delivery empire. I just wanted to avoid standing still. The question wasn’t how to make a new app. It was how to remove friction from a routine that should feel instant and lightweight.

The first version was just a sketch. A pickup-focused food app where people could browse, order, and go — no waiting, no back-and-forth. I showed it to a few friends. They liked it, but asked: what if it could also recommend things? What if it knew your favorites? That made me pause.

I started watching people order. In food courts, in fast casual chains, in coffee shops. They stall. They point at photos. They ask the cashier what’s good. There’s decision fatigue in menus that are too broad and UIs that ask too much.

I tried to keep the scope narrow. Just pickup. Just essentials. But even in that, you run into layers: customizations, calorie counts, add-ons, availability, queue status. The challenge was keeping it fast without making it shallow.

I structured the experience around a single goal: clarity. Every screen should answer the question “What can I get, and how fast?” The first screen became about presence — food floating around, suggesting variety, but not pushing it. It opens with lightness.

I chose emojis for the onboarding not just to be playful, but because they are immediately recognizable and platform-native. There’s no learning curve. You see a burger, you know what this app is about. The UI reflects that directness.

The visual system leans into white space and soft contrast. Orange became the accent — warm, energetic, tied to appetite and speed. I avoided gradients or shadows. Flat, but not dull. I wanted it to feel fresh, like something you’d find on a tray liner at a modern cafe.

One thing I didn’t anticipate was how much copy matters. Words like “Add to cart” or “Customize” carry different weight in a food context. I kept revisiting the microcopy, asking whether it helped people move forward or slowed them down.

A key detail that emerged was letting people select multiple proteins. Originally, it was radio buttons. But people wanted to mix steak and carnitas. That change required rethinking the pricing logic, but it made the app feel more flexible.

I spent time fine-tuning the calorie information. Not because people would use it all the time, but because when they did, it had to be subtle and precise. Tucking it under the protein options kept the screen clean without hiding it.

Looking back, I might’ve started with a component system. I built the UI fast, but without a shared library, iterations took longer. If I had modularized the buttons, counters, and modifiers earlier, the design would’ve scaled faster.

The project changed the way I think about time. Not just loading time or pickup time, but time as a design constraint. How many taps until food is ordered? How much can I remove without disorienting the user?

This wasn’t a client project. It wasn’t bound to KPIs. But it shaped how I design for behavior, not just aesthetics. There’s a discipline in asking what can be cut — and answering honestly.

Noque started as a workaround. It became a practice in restraint. I still think about that line in the cafe. And how sometimes, the best interface is the one you don’t notice because it lets you move.