Your customers already message you for the menu, to order, to book a table. Now the same WhatsApp chat sends the menu, builds the cart, takes the payment for delivery, and reserves the table — run by an AI that never leaves a message on read.
The same AI knows whether someone wants it delivered tonight or wants a table on Friday — and handles both, end to end, without a human touching the keyboard.
“What do you have tonight?” The AI sends your menu as a swipeable carousel, builds the order, checks the delivery zone, confirms the address, and takes payment — then drops a clean, itemised ticket on your board. No twelve-message back-and-forth, no wrong addresses, no order lost in the noise.
“A table for four, Friday at 8.” The AI reads it, checks the floor for that slot, offers what's genuinely open, books it, and adds the guest to your reservation book — with a reminder before they arrive so a held table never sits empty.
Aggregators don't just charge you. They stand between you and the person who ordered, so the relationship — the one thing that brings them back — was never yours to begin with.
Commission is charged on the whole order, every single time, in most markets between 15% and 35%. On the margins a kitchen actually runs on, that is frequently the difference between a profitable order and one you'd rather not have taken.
The person who ordered through the app is the app's customer, not yours. You can't message them, can't thank them, can't win them back — you're renting access to your own regulars, one order at a time.
One monthly price, no cut of any order — and the customer lands in your WhatsApp with a name and a history. They ordered from you, they're yours to keep, and the next order skips the marketplace entirely.
The problem was never one busy Friday of fees.
It's that you were renting your own customers.
Commission figures are indicative: the major delivery marketplaces set rates per country, per plan and per visibility programme and rarely publish a single standard number. Treat any specific percentage, including the 15–35% range above, as an estimate rather than a quoted rate.
Everything below is on every plan, including the free one.
Your dishes arrive as a swipeable carousel inside WhatsApp — photo, price, and an Add button on each card. Sections, modifiers and “no onions” are all understood, so the order that comes back is the order the kitchen can actually make.
A running cart, gentle upsells (“a drink with that?”), and checkout — all without leaving the conversation. Card through Stripe or cash on delivery, your call, with an itemised total the customer confirms before it hits your board.
The AI collects the location, checks it's inside a zone you deliver to, and quotes the delivery fee up front — so drivers stop calling for directions and orders stop arriving cold at the wrong door.
“Four of us, Friday at 8.” The AI reads the slot, checks the floor, and books a table that's genuinely free — no phone tag, no double-entry, no guessing whether you had room.
Tables down the side, service across the top, every booking a coloured block. Held tables are held — two guests asking for the same 8pm at the same second get sat at two different tables, never the same one.
Someone can order lunch at 11 for 1pm, or pre-order for the table they just booked so the food lands when they sit down. Orders queue to the time they're wanted, not the second they're placed.
The usual order, the allergy, the favourite table, every past ticket — on one profile. A returning guest is never asked their name or their address again; the AI already knows who's typing.
Arabic, English, French — and Arabizi, the Latin-letter Arabic your customers actually type. Voice notes are understood as well, which is how half of an order gets placed after a long shift. Live voice calls are on the way. Coming soon
Start free. Add your menu and your floor plan, then watch an order check out and a table book itself, without you typing a word.