Table to kitchen to bill
Orders, kitchen tickets, billing and menus — for a single room or a group running fifty of them. We configure it, brand it, host it and keep it running. Nobody on your floor touches a server.
Orders, kitchen tickets, billing and menus — for a single room or a group running fifty of them. We configure it, brand it, host it and keep it running. Nobody on your floor touches a server.
A fault in the cold room, an ingredient down to nothing, a clean that was missed. Each sits in a list until somebody opens it, which is exactly what the paper clipboard it replaced did. Here it reaches the manager on the pre-service walk-through. No dismiss button: an item goes when the thing behind it is fixed. Saying you are on it records your name, moves it down, and lapses after four hours. And nothing here decides what is wrong — every check calls the same function the module’s own screen calls, so two screens can never disagree about whether the cold room is broken.
The room as it stands: which tables are occupied, how long they have been sitting, what is still owed, and what needs doing before close.
A table is held for a turn, not for the night, so the same table takes a second sitting. Seating a party opens their order with the covers already on it.
Tap a dish to add it. Prices come from the menu, so nobody types one at the till. Merge tables, split by dish or evenly, discounts that need a reason.
The pass, longest wait first, read from two metres away — and a printed docket that carries only what changed, so two more naans never become four.
Dishes, prices, dietary marks and heat, grouped the way a menu is read rather than alphabetically. A dish goes off by itself when the store runs out.
Every bill the day produced, findable by number, table or amount, reprintable months later — and refunds that issue a credit note rather than editing the bill somebody is holding.
Food cost is the number a restaurant lives or dies on and the one nobody has time to work out. The recipes are already here — the store uses them to know what an order consumes — so the only thing missing was what an ingredient costs. Entered the way an invoice reads: ₹520 for 2 kg of paneer, not a price per gram. The menu then shows the cost, the margin and the food cost percentage of every dish, worst first.
A dish with no recipe, or with an ingredient nobody has priced, shows as unknown — never as costing nothing. A zero there would report a food cost of 0% and a margin of 100%, which is the most flattering number the screen could produce and would appear on exactly the dishes a new restaurant has not finished setting up. Those rows say what to go and price, and sit below the dish that is actually losing money rather than on top of it.
The takings the figure can account for, and separately the takings it cannot, with the percentage of the day it covers. A food cost of 28% worked out over the third of the menu that happens to be priced is a number that gets quoted in a meeting and is not true.
Ingredients and recipes, so stock comes off when a ticket is sent and the menu follows the store. Counts are recorded against what was expected, not typed over it.
The supplier’s invoice, entered once at the back door. Stock goes up, the ingredient is re-costed against what you actually paid — averaged over what was already on the shelf, not lurching to the last price — and the total you typed off the paper is checked against the lines and never quietly corrected. On the 5% rate there is no input credit, so the GST on what you buy is in the cost of the dish, where a textbook would leave it out and understate every margin you have.
Kept by phone number, so one person is one record however they write it. Points on the food — never on tax or a tip, which are not yours to give away.
Cash up against what the till says, with lunch and dinner answering for their own drawers. The day cannot close while somebody still has one.
The month's GSTR-1 working in the portal's own table numbers, with every figure traceable and every exclusion named.
The group, for a chain: every room and the sum of them — tables open, covers tonight, taken today. If a branch cannot be read the totals say so and name it, rather than quietly reporting four rooms as five to somebody about to pay a supplier.
Who works here, and three tiers so a new server can take orders without being able to change a price.
Hosted, backed up, monitored and updated by us. It keeps working when the wifi does not.
Its own six-character address, its own data, its own staff. One outlet's takings are not one query away from another's — they are behind a different access check.
Grant an owner once at the group and they reach every outlet, including the ones opened next year. No re-inviting anybody when the twelfth room joins.
Our support administrators, your administrators, and your floor and kitchen scoped to what their job needs. Roles are data we can change, not code we have to deploy.
A kitchen and a customer toilet are exactly what a food inspector asks about, and the answer is a cleaning record. Each place carries the times it is owed by rather than a number of times a day — “three times” can be satisfied at 07:00, 07:05 and 07:10, and a window cannot.
Every entry is stamped with our clock. There is no field for a time, so the record says when something happened rather than when somebody says it did, and a run of entries written down in one sitting is shown plainly to whoever runs the floor.
What staff notice is kept with it: no soap at the hand basin, a blocked drain, a light out over the pass. Each carries an age, because a fault reported repeatedly and never fixed is the thing an inspector finds.
Hosted, backed up, monitored and updated by us. Certificates, upgrades and capacity are not on anybody's list at your end.
Your menu, your courses, your GST rates. The system matches the kitchen; the kitchen does not rearrange itself around the system.
Structure, roles, rates and branding. Configuration rather than a rewrite, which is why this takes weeks and not quarters.
Your existing menu and staff imported and reconciled with you before a single order goes through it.
On your own address, with your staff trained on it, and us reachable when something is not obvious.
All of the above is in production and has been used to take real money: a table opened, sent to the kitchen, split three ways, settled, printed, and reconciled at close. Nothing on this page is in build.
What it does not do, said plainly rather than left to be discovered: it does not run payroll, it does not take online orders from an aggregator, and it does not keep a supplier ledger — deliveries are recorded and priced into what a dish costs, but what you owe each supplier, and when, lives in our finance product rather than being half-built here.
It keeps working when the connection does not. Screens stay readable from the last known state, and anything that would take money refuses out loud rather than appearing to succeed — because a bill that silently fails is a table charged twice.