Your menu, in your guests’ language

A foreign guest who can’t read your menu doesn’t ask for explanations. They order what they recognise, a pizza, a steak, or whatever the next table is having.

Your distinctive dishes, the ones that define the place and earn you most, are exactly the ones they don’t dare. They are also the ones people come back for, and talk about afterwards. Translating the menu isn’t politeness: it removes a hesitation at the moment of ordering.

You type your menu in your own language, the one you think it in. Every dish name, description and section is translated automatically into the languages you switch on, up to seventeen, including Arabic, Japanese and Chinese.

Guests do nothing: the menu appears in their phone’s language. If they’d rather have another, a switcher gives it to them.

It gets translated again. That’s what separates automatic translation from a one-off job. A frozen translation becomes wrong at the first change of season, and nobody pays a translator again for three lines.

Here, editing a description is enough to trigger its translation. You don’t think about it.

Automatic translation gets things wrong sometimes: a local speciality, a pun, a trade term. You can correct it yourself, dish by dish, language by language.

A correction you write by hand is never overwritten. That’s what makes the tool usable: without that guarantee, your fix would vanish at the next run.

A neighbourhood bistro doesn’t need what a seaside brasserie needs. You switch on the languages that matter to you, and add one the day your clientele changes.

The name you typed always stays visible under the translation: that’s the one guests point to when they order, and it’s what prevents misunderstandings in the dining room.