Publishing a menu that stays true to what the kitchen serves.
A product carries a price per group and the group overrides it. Whoever copied one figure onto the site copied a single case and left the rest wrong.
An item record exists to complete a sale, so it stops at a name and a price. What a guest with an allergy must read is missing before the page is built.
A guest reads £24 on the page and is billed £27 at the table, and the wrong figure becomes a dispute in a full room. Three routes can move that price; none is the website.
One dish can carry four correct prices depending on where it sells. A page that copied the figure once publishes a stale answer the rest of the time.
The chef takes the hake off and the till is right in a minute. On Saturday the site still sells it, and a four-top loses the dish they chose the restaurant for.
The documented item has no allergen field, no ingredient list, no description. The line carrying the most risk is the one the till was never built to hand over.
The documented events are order events; nothing announces a menu change. A site told to cache and not to poll serves a stale dish until somebody notices.
The paper menu said Ribeye, 10oz, £29. The website says dry-aged for twenty-eight days, and the pass has to defend a sentence nobody in the kitchen wrote when a guest disputes it.
Immunity boosting broth read fine on a chalkboard for years. On a published menu it is a marketing communication, and the wrong wording is a breach rather than a flourish.
A guest is charged more than the menu said, and the argument happens at the table. The rule most owners cite does not even apply to a restaurant, and a drinks list carries a second duty nobody mentions.
When a recipe, supplier or substitute changes, stale allergen details can split the kitchen record, menu and staff answer before the next service.
A menu link may open on a phone yet leave guests pinching tiny text, waiting for a download or reading an out-of-date file.
