Twenty-one languages, one catalogue
The chain writes each dish once. Every hotel under it inherits the dish and sets its own price: 46 złoty in Warsaw, 42 in Kraków, one recipe.
A guest scans the code in their room and reads the whole menu in their own language — what is in each dish, what can be left out, and every allergen it carries. They order from the same screen, and the order reaches your desk as they place it.
See a live menuThe chain writes each dish once. Every hotel under it inherits the dish and sets its own price: 46 złoty in Warsaw, 42 in Kraków, one recipe.
The fourteen allergens of EU FIC come from the ingredients of the dish, never from a tick-box. A guest who marks milk is told the żurek can be served without it, because the sour cream is removable, and that the pierogi cannot, because the curd is not.
One tap takes the salmon off, and every dish built on it goes with it. No reprint.
It arrives while the guest is still looking at the screen, with what they changed written down. The kitchen gets the same ticket on paper, in the language of the house.
An order carries a room number, and the charge can reach that room's folio. The kitchen ticket prints in the language of the house, whatever language the guest ordered in. Breakfast closes at eleven on its own, and the bar stays open past midnight. These are the details that decide whether a system fits a hotel, and they are where the design started.
Card payment and Apple Pay are not here yet: an order charged to the room is a promise, and the hotel settles it on the folio or at the door — the money never passes through us. Of the property management systems, Apaleo is connected today; any other is work we take on per vendor, on request. And the menu import reads text you paste, not a photograph of your printed folder.