Sapor
The operating system for the dining room.
One kitchen’s memory, kept properly — so the menu can answer for itself, the pass can run clean, and a guest is remembered the second time they sit down.
See it on a real tableThe loop, in seven courses
A meal is not seven products. It is one loop — and every step of it already runs on something. Here it runs on one thing.
- HungryA craving with nowhere to put itself, at half past six.Somm
- DiscoverThe dish first, then the room that does it best tonight.Somm
- ArriveThe eleven o’clock message answered, the table held, the regular known by name.Host
- OrderThe menu answers for itself — in their language, before a waiter is free.Carte
- KitchenEvery ticket on one rail, and the allergen nobody has checked impossible to miss.The Pass
- EatOne more question mid-meal, and the bill settled without catching an eye.Carte
- FeedbackWhat they loved, kept — so the second visit begins where the first ended.Palate
— and back to hungry. Each turn of the loop, the room knows a little more.
Sitting at the table
Scan it. This opens Marai’s actual menu, table 7.
Not a video, not a mockup. A real room, a real menu, the same questions your guests ask — ingredients, heat, what goes with what. Ask it something difficult.
- No app. No download. It opens in the camera.
- Live in a room in under a day, on the phones you already have.
- If it ever fails, the diner asks a waiter. Nothing breaks.
The kitchen’s own notes
whichever room you are in.
Every answer comes from your kitchen. Or it doesn’t come at all.
A wrong word about an allergen can end a life and a restaurant in the same evening. So the table never invents one. It reads what your kitchen wrote down, shows who wrote it and when — and when nobody has written it yet, it says so and sends the guest to your server.
Verified by the kitchen
Someone in your kitchen checked the fact and dated it. That date is shown to the guest.
Provenance, always
Prices, hours, allergens — read from your records, never recalled from thin air.
Never guessed
If it isn’t written down yet, the table says so plainly and hands the guest to your server.
Every question nobody could answer becomes a note the whole room owns. Staff leave; the room’s memory stays.
The PassIV. Our pledge to your guests
Their record belongs to them.
What a guest ate, loved and can’t eat is theirs to carry: portable, erasable, never sold, never handed to anyone else’s ledger. You see your own room, and honest aggregate demand — never someone else’s guest.
- Portable
- Erasable
- Never sold
An invitation
We are choosing three founding rooms.
Three, because we intend to stand in each dining room ourselves through service. You get the platform for the year at no cost, our phone number, and the loudest voice in what gets built. We get a room honest enough to tell us when it’s wrong.
Three rooms remain · by introduction or request