Allergy card A moment at the table

For this meal only

Tell the kitchen your allergies — exactly, and nothing more

One card. Your allergens, in the kitchen's own words, for this meal only — no name, no history.

See the nine answers

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Static illustration of a card being passed across a table.

Tell the kitchen your allergies — exactly, and nothing more

You would keep one list of your allergies, and each kitchen would see it in its own allergen words, for this meal only — with no name and no medical history attached. The strictness you set, down to ‘no contact at all’, would reach the stove as you set it.

One recurring task, argued card by card — and two questions at the bottom. Tell me if you would use it.

Nothing described here has been built. PlateNote is an idea being tested, not a product for sale. Every capability below is written as would, because none of it exists yet.

You say ‘I’m allergic to sesame’ and the server hears ‘no seeds on top’. What you needed — no sesame oil in the pan, a clean board, nothing from the shared dressing bottle — gets a little shorter every time it is passed on: server to pass, pass to cook, cook to runner. By dessert a new server has taken over, and you either start again or take your chances.

And to be taken seriously, you end up saying far more than the kitchen needs — naming the condition, mentioning the adrenaline pen — or typing it into a booking form, where it stays filed next to your email address long after the meal is over.

Nine questions, nine answers

1. What is it? — one statement for one meal, and nothing else

A list of your allergies that you would keep, turned into one clear statement each time you order: your allergens, the forms they hide in, and how strictly to avoid them. No name, no medical history, no booking profile. You would describe your allergies once; each kitchen would see the statement in its own allergen words, for that meal only.

What exactly would the kitchen see?

The allergens, the hidden forms each one comes in — oils, flours, pastes, sauces — and one strictness level for each, from ‘no contact at all’ to ‘no ingredient in the dish’. Every statement would carry one purpose: this meal only.

What would never be on it: who you are, a diagnosis, a medication name, what happened last time. The format would have no place for them, and a check before sending would flag any note that slipped one in.

Today a spoken allergy is retold three times before it reaches the stove. Written once, the retelling disappears.

2. Why does it matter who holds this? — only you hold all the pieces

People who eat out with allergies already know what the kitchen needs; what fails is the carrying. The list said out loud is shorter than the list that can hurt, and every channel that carries it either loses detail or keeps too much. If the list stayed with you and only a one-meal slice left it, precision and saying less would stop being a trade-off.

Why not just store it with the restaurant or the booking site?

Because a copy stored with a booking company outlives the dinner. A note typed into ‘special requests’ sits next to your email and phone number with a company that is not the kitchen, may never reach the chef, and turns up pre-filled the next time you book somewhere else.

No single place holds everything you know about your own allergies — an allergist’s letter, a school form, a reaction on holiday that no clinic saw. The whole list could only exist where those pieces meet, and you are the only one who holds all of them. That still would not make a list complete: it is only as right as the person keeping it.

Beyond one dinner: if allergy hand-overs carried no identity and a this-meal-only purpose, health details would stop piling up in systems that never needed them.

3. How would it work? — one question per meal, then it ends

You would describe your allergies once in your own words and confirm the list. When you order, PlateNote would ask one plain question: share your allergens with this kitchen, for tonight? Say yes, and the kitchen would get one written instruction instead of a sentence retold three times. It would stay valid through dessert, and then end.

What happens if a new server takes over, or I change my mind?

Where a restaurant’s order system could receive it, the instruction would sit on the ticket with your seat, so a new server at dessert or a runner who did not take the order would read the same thing — and you would see that it arrived. Where it could not, you would show the same statement on your phone.

You could end a statement early. That would stop the kitchen view from that moment on, where the restaurant confirms it — but it does not retract what staff have already read, and copies of allergy notes already held elsewhere would not be reached.

People stay at the centre. Cooks and servers would read your instruction instead of reconstructing it, and could still ask you directly.

4. Who is involved? — the person at the table first, then the kitchen

It would be for anyone who eats out with a food allergy and is tired of choosing between saying too much and not being heard — above all guests whose allergy reacts to a trace from a shared board, and parents speaking for a child. Cooks, servers and runners would be the people who make it work, without holding anything about you.

Who else would this touch, and who would resist it?

Four groups share one moment — ordering under social pressure with a detail that must survive being passed on: guests with severe allergies, parents and carers, travellers and people who rarely return to the same place, and guests who have started sharing less than they should.

Kitchen teams would get an unambiguous instruction; servers and runners would lose the relay that gets them blamed; restaurant operators would decide whether statements reach the ticket directly. Allergy communities and allergists would be natural advocates, but only while it stays clear that a statement is your own declaration, not a medical check.

Booking platforms, built on keeping customer profiles, would be more likely to resist than help. None of these is a signed partner. The page speaks to the guest; everyone else appears here as part of the story.

A commercial kitchen shelf of labelled ingredient containers beside a wall-pinned reference sheet

5. What would it need? — a list on your phone and a reviewed vocabulary

It would be built from a few things you could check: your list, kept on your own phone; a statement for each meal whose format has no field at all for a name, contact details or an account; a shared, reviewed set of hidden forms and kitchen allergen categories; and a private record showing where each statement went and that it ended.

What would it need from the restaurant?

Nothing, to start: the statement would be readable on your phone in any restaurant, even without a connection. Restaurants whose order systems adopted the shared format could receive it on the ticket, but that would be optional.

The shared knowledge — allergens linked to the preparations they hide in, and to the categories kitchens use in each region — would contain no personal data, so every improvement would reach every guest without anyone sharing anything. Its check-ups would test the list’s form, never its medical truth.

There are no certifications or credentials behind this idea yet, and none are claimed.

6. What would it cost and save? — effort once, never reciting it again

The cost would be effort, not information: one setup session to describe your allergies and confirm the list, a habit of showing or sending a statement instead of explaining, and recording a change after a new test or reaction. The saving: no reconstructing the list from memory, no repeating it at dessert, nothing about your health left in a booking system. No price has been set.

The honest cost side, and a test you can apply

Time: one careful session up front, then a quick review only when something changes. Attention: the ordering moment would stop being a negotiation you supervise. Energy: no more cutting the explanation short to avoid being the difficult table. Money: nothing has been decided, and this page will not invent a price or promise it free.

What it could not take off your hands: keeping the list true. A statement is only as right as the list behind it, and precise delivery of an incomplete list is still incomplete.

The test: would one careful session now be worth never reciting your allergies from memory at a table again?

A crowded restaurant interior at night seen from one still table, people blurred around it

7. Where would it run? — at the table, in any restaurant, even offline

It would work where the problem happens: at the table, in the minute you order. You would show a large, clear statement on your own phone, with no connection and no restaurant setup needed. Where a restaurant’s order system could receive it, the same statement would go onto the ticket for your seat. Abroad, it would appear in the local allergen categories and language.

What about a country where I don’t speak the language?

Each region would be added only once its table of kitchen allergen categories had been reviewed, and each language only once its fixed set of allergen and strictness phrases had been reviewed — never a free translation of your own sentence. An unreviewed language would simply not be offered.

Before a meal, a booking form’s dietary field would become transparent: who receives it, whether it reaches the kitchen, how long it is kept — or ‘unknown’.

Honest boundary: nothing shows that any kitchen receives statements directly today, which is why the phone statement would have to work everywhere on its own.

The first moment after sitting down at a restaurant table, a waiter approaching behind

8. When would it happen? — once at setup, then only when something happens

Nothing would run on a schedule you have to keep. You would set up your list once. After that, work would happen only when something happens: when you order, one statement for that meal; when you record a new test or reaction, one review; when the meal ends, the statement ends too. The first stage would need no restaurant at all.

In what order would it arrive?

First, the list and the readable statement, usable anywhere. Next, lists for the people you look after, the per-meal question and your private record. Then direct delivery to order tickets as restaurant systems adopt it. Later, more regions and languages — and a proper return to the gaps that are not solved yet.

No timing, speed or accuracy figures exist for any of this, so none are given. What is worth measuring once it exists: no re-explaining at dessert, and new restaurants starting from your current statement instead of from zero.

A person showing a small card at a pharmacy counter while the pharmacist nods

9. What would change, beyond the meal? — sharing one purpose at a time would start to feel normal

Beyond allergies, the idea models a norm: one plain question, one purpose, one meal, and nothing kept. If it became ordinary at restaurant tables, people with allergies could choose from the places everyone else chooses from, including abroad — and sharing a sensitive detail for one purpose at a time could become familiar well beyond restaurants.

How could it spread without collecting anyone’s data?

Because the stakes are real and the exchange is small: a kitchen needs one precise instruction, and a guest needs to say nothing more. Asking one plain question per meal, and showing what a booking field really does, models a norm in which sensitive details are shared for one purpose at a time — a norm other services could copy.

It could grow without anyone pooling personal data: each reviewed hidden form or translated phrase would improve every guest’s statement at once, and each restaurant able to receive statements would make every guest’s statement more useful there.

What the kitchen would actually see

Illustrative specimen — invented, not a real person’s statement. It is here to show the shape and the size of what would travel.

TABLE 12 · SEAT 3 · THIS MEAL ONLY

  • Sesame — incl. oil, paste, tahini — no contact at all

No name. No contact details. Ends with the service.

That would be the entire statement: an allergen, its hidden forms, a strictness level, a table and an end time.

The trade, in one paragraph

The kitchen needs precision; you want to say nothing more. Those two fit together only when what reaches the kitchen is a one-meal statement, not your record. So your list would stay with you, and each kitchen would see only the allergens and their strictness, in its own words, for that meal — unlike telling a server out loud, which loses detail, or typing it into a booking form, which keeps too much. The two questions below are how this finds out whether it is worth making.

Two questions about this idea

Whether a kitchen would accept a shown card at all, instead of asking you to say it out loud, is still an open question — answer as if it would.

If this existed: you would make the card once, show it when you order, and the kitchen would get the allergen flags and nothing else. Worth having?
A separate question — optional. A health fact about you can stay with the service that recorded it, or be something you can move and show yourself. Which should it be for your own health facts?

Either question can be answered on its own. Your answer is a count and nothing else — what gets stored is the answer word, which question it answers, whether you changed it, and a timestamp. Nothing in that record identifies you: no cookie, no account, no identifier. This page will not claim perfect anonymity either — the host that serves it sees the ordinary details every website’s host sees when a page loads, including your IP address. It is not stored with your answer and it is not kept, but no web page can honestly promise more than that. On this device the page keeps your answers so it can restore them for you, plus a flag for whether you opened the full argument — that flag is part of the record of how the answer was formed; it is not sent anywhere and nothing on the page reads it back to you. Three commitments behind that: I will never sell this, never use it to target you, and never train anything on it.

The argument, in full

This is the long version, for the reading mode that wants it. Everything below traces back to a numbered card above, and the last section says plainly what this would not do.

Open the full argument

What would set it apart — back to card 1

Every channel that carries an allergy today breaks the limit the task itself sets. Speaking at the table loses strictness with each retelling. Typing into a booking form stores health information next to your email with a company that is not the kitchen. A printed card goes stale and speaks one language. PlateNote would sit in the gap between these routes: your list would stay with you, and a restaurant would receive only the slice one service needs — which allergens, how strict, for this table, tonight. The spoken route is minimal but imprecise; the booking route is written but keeps too much; the printed card is written and minimal but frozen in time. Keeping the list with the person and handing over a derived, purpose-bound statement is the one arrangement in which precision and saying less would stop being a trade-off.

What you would actually hand over — back to card 1

Four capabilities would carry the promise. Capture: you would describe your allergies in your own words once, and the description would become entries you confirm, with nothing kept until you do. Hidden forms: each allergen would carry the oils, flours, pastes and preparations it hides in, which you could confirm, remove or extend. The kitchen’s own terms: the statement would use the allergen categories kitchens work with in that region, built from reviewed phrases in the kitchen’s language, never a free translation of your sentence. An identity-free hand-over: the statement’s format would have no place for a name, contact details or an account. Each allergen would carry exactly one strictness level you choose, and every statement one purpose: this meal only.

Why the carrying fails — back to card 2

Strictness is the detail that disappears first, and the list said out loud is shorter than the list that can hurt, because memory drops the hidden forms under pressure. At the same time, the effort to be taken seriously pushes people to share too much — naming a condition or mentioning medication — while the fear of being the difficult table pushes them to cut the explanation short. Both failures share one cause: the only place the whole list lives is a person’s memory, and the only channels either lose detail or keep too much. If the list lived with the person and each hand-over were precise and minimal, both pressures would ease together.

How the relationship would stay narrow — back to card 3

PlateNote would not hold an account about you, and restaurants would not gain a guest profile; the connection that matters would be between your list and one kitchen for one service. It would be built around a single decision you make each time — whether this kitchen gets your allergens tonight — instead of the blanket acceptance booking platforms ask for once and apply to everything typed afterwards. Trust would be earned by feedback rather than promised: where a restaurant could receive statements, you would see that yours arrived before your food does, and afterwards your own record would show every hand-over and when it ended. What leaves the list would stay the same over time: the allergens and their strictness, for one meal.

From setup to the end of a meal — back to card 3

The flow would have four moments. Setup, once: describe your allergies, confirm the proposed entries, accept or remove the hidden forms, resolve anything flagged as incomplete. Ordering, every meal: answer one question naming the restaurant and the meal, and a statement would be made for that meal only, in the allergen categories and language that kitchen uses. Service would follow the statement rather than your voice: on a ticket where the restaurant can receive it, so a new server at dessert reads the same thing. The ending would be part of the process: the statement would expire with the service, you could end it earlier, and an entry in your private record would say where it went. At a table of eight on a Saturday night, that is what would replace three retellings and a nervous question to the runner.

What would stay human, and the honest limits — back to card 3

Servers and cooks would still take the order, cook the food and carry the plate; what would change is that they read your instruction instead of reconstructing it, and they could still ask you directly. Showing a phone at the table is itself visible, so discretion would improve but is not assured. Staff are used to hearing an allergy from a person, and a written statement would have to earn their trust by being short and standard. The research behind this page judged the overall value capture moderate: every part of the experience would improve on the guest’s side, while the kitchen-side benefits depend on restaurants being able to receive statements, which is not evidenced. What the idea does not yet cover is the moment after a reaction, when people helping need to know which allergen was involved.

Four groups, one moment — back to card 4

Guests with severe allergies, where cross-contact rather than a portion triggers a reaction, carry the sharpest need: for them the strictness that gets shortened in retelling is the danger itself. Parents and carers manage someone else’s allergies and carry the heaviest repetition load, passing details through schools, hosts and organisers who may shorten or mix them up. Travellers and people who seldom return to the same restaurant meet new languages, new names for ingredients and a fresh start at every table. Guests wary of what booking systems keep have begun sharing less, which trades one risk for another. Kitchen teams and restaurant operators sit on the other side of the table: they matter for how the idea would spread, but this page speaks to the guest, not to them.

What these guests have in common — back to card 4

What unites them is behaviour, not demographics. They already know their allergies in detail, often better than anyone they will meet that evening, yet they hold that knowledge as memories and phrases rather than as a list they can hand over. Their strongest motivation is control over health information: the kitchen needs to know what to keep off the plate, and nobody needs a name, a diagnosis or a history for that. Their strongest blocker is social: at a date, a business dinner or an impatient table, the pressure to be quick pushes them to over-explain or to cut the explanation short. Many develop explanation fatigue; some stop typing allergies into booking forms at all, after learning that whatever they share is kept. Parents add a protective drive: a child’s allergies handled correctly, without every meal out becoming a public explanation.

Who would benefit first, and who this is not for — back to card 4

Those whose need is sharpest and whose first step needs nobody else would benefit first: people whose allergy reacts to a trace, and parents speaking for a child. Travellers would benefit once their destination’s categories and language were supported; privacy-wary guests once they could see, in their own record, that each hand-over was limited to one meal. It is not a medical service: a statement would be the guest’s own declaration, not a verification. It is not a tool for restaurants or booking platforms to build guest profiles; the design would give them nothing to keep beyond the service. And it is not for someone who wants a service to decide their allergies for them: the list would be written, checked and kept current by the person it belongs to.

Who would have to take part — back to card 4

Three kinds of collaboration would make the idea work, and none would need anyone to hold guest data. Kitchen teams and front-of-house staff would simply read and act on a clear instruction, receiving fewer ambiguous requests and fewer plate mix-ups at large tables in return. Restaurant operators and the providers of their order systems would play an optional but powerful role: if an order system adopted the shared format and kitchen view, every restaurant using it could receive statements at once, with acknowledgements the guest could see. The guest’s own circle — hosts, colleagues, parents — would help by passing on a statement rather than a remembered list. Allergists would contribute indirectly: a letter a guest already holds could be read into the list on the guest’s phone. Booking platforms, with high influence and little reason to welcome this, would more likely hesitate; food-safety and data-protection authorities would watch rather than partner, and no compliance claim is made.

The assets that would do the work — back to card 5

The resources would be mostly knowledge and structure rather than facilities or staff. First, your own list, created by turning everyday wording into structured entries and, where you choose, reading letters or forms you already hold — all on your device. Second, a shared knowledge base of hidden forms and kitchen allergen categories: versioned, reviewed and free of personal data. Third, the statement format itself, whose validator would allow only the permitted fields, so ‘nothing more’ would be held by one mechanism rather than repeated in many places. Fourth, your sharing record. Together these would let it work without any central store of allergy information.

Proof you could inspect — back to card 5

Trust would rest on things you can inspect rather than on claims. The statement could be read before it is shown or sent, and it would contain a small, fixed set of items: allergens, their hidden forms, a strictness level, region and language, a table or seat reference and a validity window. Before a statement is made, a check would flag diagnoses, medication names or clinical history in any extra note. The check-ups would test completeness of form, and a list would never be labelled medically verified or complete; the statement would show the date you last reviewed it. Documents you import would be read on the phone and stay with you, and your record of hand-overs would live only with you, deletable entry by entry or all at once.

What would still be missing — back to card 5

Day to day, the idea would run on your phone: capture, hidden forms, check-ups, family lists, the per-meal statement and the readable card shown at the table, offline if needed. Shared, reviewed content packages would supply hidden forms, regional categories and phrases, and the same shared statement format would be used whether a statement is shown or sent. Some resources are plainly missing, and they matter. Nothing in the design would give people helping after a reaction the information they need — the most serious gap. Nothing would tell you in advance whether a particular kitchen can cook without an allergen. There are no certifications or credentials behind it, so none are claimed.

Where the effort and the cost would sit — back to card 6

For you, the costs would be time and attention rather than information: a one-time setup, a light duty to record changes, and a change of habit at the table. For whoever runs it, the structure would be unusual, because the most expensive thing in similar services — a central database of personal health information to host, secure and defend — would not exist. More guests and more meals would add work to their own devices, not to a shared store. What would remain are two repeatable costs that grow with reach rather than with the number of guests: human review of the knowledge packs for each region and language, and certification of each restaurant order system that wants to receive statements directly. No cost figures exist, so none are given, and no price has been set.

What you would give, and what you would keep — back to card 6

What you would give each meal is deliberately narrow: the allergens, the hidden forms they come in and a strictness level for each, with no name, diagnosis, medical history or account. What you would keep is broad: the whole list would stay with you, updated by you, never handed over as a whole; nothing about your health would be left afterwards in a booking system, a restaurant’s guest file or a mailing list, because each statement would be tied to one meal and end with it. The decision itself would stay with you too: sharing would be a choice per restaurant and per meal, never a standing permission. And what it would be worth at the table: the kitchen receiving ‘no contact at all’ as ‘no contact at all’, no reconstructing the list from memory, what you said at the start staying true for every course, and any restaurant feeling as easy as the one that already knows you.

What success would honestly require — back to card 6

Success would ask for things that cannot be bought. Accuracy at the source: a statement is only as right as the list its owner keeps, which is why a list would never be called verified. Adoption on the restaurant side, which the research found no evidence of today; until it exists, the written statement would reach kitchens only through your phone. Purpose limits that receiving systems actually honour — and allergy notes already sitting in booking platforms would not be retrieved by any of this. And the most serious gap: nothing yet would give people helping after a reaction the information they need, so you would still carry that preparation yourself. Measured against these, the picture is mixed but clear: most of today’s barriers would be reduced for the guest, and the remaining ones are named rather than hidden.

How reaching the kitchen would work without a middleman — back to card 7

Allergies reach kitchens today through two channels that each fail differently. The spoken channel at the table is noisy, rushed and passed from hand to hand, so detail drops out. The booking channel is written but offers one free-text box with no sign that it reaches the chef, inside systems built to keep customer information. PlateNote would add a channel held by the guest and keep the others honest. The guest-held path would be the statement on your phone, needing no partner and no integration. The partner path would be direct delivery into a restaurant’s ticket and kitchen screen, growing restaurant by restaurant as order systems adopted a shared format. Every statement would carry its purpose and end time along either path. Each guest using statements would give restaurants a reason to receive them, and each receiving restaurant would make every guest’s statement more useful there, without any central store of allergy data.

The places it would live — back to card 7

The statement would live in three places, each only as long as needed: on your phone, where the whole list stays and where the readable version would be made, with or without a network; for the length of one service on a restaurant’s ticket or kitchen screen, where that restaurant could receive it, showing the table, the seat, the allergens and the strictness and nothing else; and afterwards in your private record, as an entry saying where it went and that it ended. Availability would follow reviewed content rather than marketing reach: a region would be supported once its kitchen allergen categories were reviewed, and a language once its fixed phrases were reviewed. Until then a region would fall back to plain allergen names with a warning, and an unreviewed language would not be offered.

Where it would work first, and where not yet — back to card 7

On your phone it would work everywhere from the first meal, because the kitchen would not need to install or join anything: a server would read the statement in the kitchen’s own allergen words. Direct delivery to the ticket would work only in restaurants whose order systems could receive it, and the research found no evidence that any kitchen does so today. That is why the phone path would carry the promise, and why receipt confirmations would be shown only when a restaurant system actually sent them. Before a meal, the booking route would stay available but become transparent. Abroad, the phone path would work where the destination’s categories and phrases had been reviewed. What would not be covered at all yet is emergency information for people helping after a reaction.

What would happen, and what would trigger it — back to card 8

Almost everything would be triggered rather than continuous. There would be one thing you do up front: build the list — describe your allergies, confirm the entries, resolve anything flagged. Everything after would respond to events. An order would trigger one statement for that restaurant and that meal. A service would open the statement’s validity window, keeping it attached to the table through every course and staff change and ending it when the meal ends. A recorded change would trigger a review of the entries it affects, so a correction happens once and benefits every later meal. Behind the scenes one activity would be periodic and shared across all guests: maintaining the reviewed knowledge of hidden forms, regional categories and translated phrases, which contains no personal data.

How it would perform, without invented numbers — back to card 8

Performance is described here by what would disappear rather than by speed figures, because no measured timing or accuracy data exists and none will be invented. Where a restaurant received statements, guests would no longer need to ask whether the allergy is on the ticket. Within a meal, repeats of the allergy explanation would drop to none, since a new server at dessert would read the same instruction. Status would be shown honestly: a statement marked as received only when the restaurant system acknowledged it, and otherwise the phone statement as the fallback. Over the months after that, new restaurants would start from your current statement instead of from zero. These are the outcomes worth measuring once it exists; today they are goals, not results.

The order in which it would arrive — back to card 8

It would arrive in four stages, ordered so that value never waits for someone else. First, the list and the readable statement, usable anywhere, starting from one reviewed region and language. Second, families and control: separate lists for people in a guest’s care, a plain per-meal question, a private record of every hand-over, and sourced facts about booking fields. Third, direct delivery: a published format and kitchen view that restaurant order systems could adopt, with real acknowledgements, while the phone statement remains the fallback. Fourth, more regions and languages for travellers, and a proper return to the open gaps: emergency information for helpers, knowing a kitchen’s ability before booking, and bookings made by organisers. Until a stage is built, this page describes it as planned, not available.

What would change, beyond the meal — back to card 9

If allergy hand-overs carried no identity and a purpose limit, the ordinary act of eating out would stop feeding sensitive health information into booking platforms and guest profiles. Across many diners, that would shrink a quiet, growing store of health data held by companies that never needed it, and it would show, in a task everyone recognises, that sharing less can make a service work better. If one current statement worked in new restaurants and abroad, people with food allergies could choose from more of the places everyone else chooses from — social life, travel and work dinners included. And asking one plain question per meal before sharing a sensitive detail would model a norm that other services could copy, well beyond restaurants.

What this doesn’t do

  • (card 1, whole page) Nothing described here has been built. Every capability is written as would, because none of it exists yet.
  • (card 2) Completeness is never claimed. You would assemble the list and keep it current; anything you do not know about yourself would stay unknown to the statement, and a statement would never be medically verified.
  • (card 6) It could never prove the absence of an allergy. A statement only says what to keep off the plate.
  • (card 5) It would not detect a reaction, and nothing on your phone or watch would be claimed to.
  • (card 3) Ending a statement early would stop the kitchen view from that moment on, where the restaurant confirms it; it does not retract what staff have already read, and allergy notes already held by booking platforms would not be deleted or retrieved.
  • (card 7) Nothing shows that any kitchen receives statements directly today. Where a kitchen cannot, the statement would only reach it through your phone.
  • (cards 3, 5) The most serious gap: nothing here would give people helping after a reaction the information they need.
  • (card 4) It would not tell you whether a particular kitchen can actually cook without an allergen, and it would not yet cover bookings made on your behalf by an organiser.
  • (card 7) Purpose limits would depend on receiving systems honouring them.
  • (card 8) No timing, speed or accuracy figure is given anywhere, because none has been measured.
  • (card 6) No price has been set, and none is implied.
  • (card 4) No partner, certification or endorsement exists; the roles described are the ones that would be needed.
  • (whole page) The photographs are illustrations of the moments described, made for this page. They are not documentary evidence and no one in them is a real customer.

The same two questions

If the long version changed your mind, go back up and change your answer — a changed answer is the most useful thing this page could learn. Back to the questions.