Osteria Marisalto is a fictional Italian restaurant on the Gulf coast. This is what its owner sees: the same dishes and prices the website shows, in the one place they are typed. Change a price and the dinner menu, Thursday's set menu, the printed card and the assistant all follow; take the branzino off for three days and it disappears from all of them. Requests, reservations and private events arrive in one inbox; contracts and deposits sit next to them; the results page says what the site produced and how it knows.
The price changed in the kitchen, on the website last month, and on the printed card never — and the argument happens at the table.
One dish record. Food, drinks, set menus, specials and the printable card all read from it; a special price sits beside the real one and never overwrites it.
One price, everywhere, the second it is saved.
A birthday for eighteen, a catering enquiry and a gluten-free question arrive by phone, Instagram and email — and one of them is answered twice, one never.
Requests, reservations, private events and questions in one list with a state — new, open, done — and the contract and deposit for the ones that become a booking.
Every enquiry answered once; the ones worth money get a contract.
The website costs money every month and nobody can say what it brought in.
A results page that follows the visit to the menu, to the assistant, to the enquiry, to the booking — and says how it knows each number.
An owner who can see what the site produced, not guess.