Digital invitation: the wedding menu, asked once

Someone in the family chat asks what 'Option B' actually is. Someone else wants to know whether the fish comes with a cream sauce. Your aunt asks, for the second time, what time dinner starts. A digital invitation answers all three on one page, and you can put it together and send it today from the catalogue, with no designer and no waiting.

The fix isn't a longer form. It's fewer questions, placed where people actually read them: one about the dish, one honest line about allergies, and the times written right next to the dress code. Digital invitations do one thing paper can't — the menu can still change after you send it.

A wedding menu on a digital invitation: three dishes, one question

Name the dishes. 'Baked hake with lemon and new potatoes' tells a guest more than 'Option A' ever will, and it saves you the message asking what's behind the label. Then ask one thing at a time: the dish here, the allergy line somewhere guests will see it before the meal. The confirmation form takes the questions you set, and the answers arrive in one ordered list instead of scattered across three chats. The invitation text can also be set per language, so the cousin reading in French and the aunt reading in Spanish see the same menu, each in their own words.

• The three dishes with their real names and one line on what's in each: baked hake with lemon, rare sirloin, roasted aubergine with tahini.
• The date you need answers by, and what happens without one: 'no reply by 20 May means we count you in with the long-table menu.'
• One short line for allergies with a name and a deadline beside it: 'anything you can't eat, message Marta by 15 June.'
• Aperitif at 19:00, seated dinner at 21:00, in the same scene — so nobody has to ask what time they eat.

Allergies get one honest line, not a medical form

A short, free-text line beats a dropdown of twenty allergens nobody can interpret: 'Anything you can't eat? Send Marta one line before 15 June.' Keep it away from tastes and habits. Allergies and intolerances are one thing; 'I'd rather skip mushrooms' is a conversation to have with the maître on the day. Mixing the two turns your invitation into a medical form, and people stop filling it in.

Put a name and a date on it. Without a name, the question lands in the family group at eleven at night and you end up answering it four times, once per cousin. A block of twelve fields gets closed before the third line; two short screens get answered whole from a phone.

Menu etiquette: times, dress code, a long dinner

The dress code reads better beside the menu than in a separate note: 'drinks in the garden at 19:00, seated dinner at 21:00, gravel paths — leave the stilettos at home.' Guests who know when dinner starts don't ask twice. Say the shape of the evening in one scene: aperitif, long dinner, toast, dancing. And if there's a kids' menu or an open bar, write it as plainly as you'd say it out loud. What goes unsaid gets asked three times, and one of those times is in the family group.

The menu isn't a form to fill in. It's one question, asked once, in the scene where it belongs.

How much does a digital invitation with a menu cost?

One price: 29,99 EUR per invitation, paid once, no subscription. Try the design free first — you can edit the cover in the browser without paying — and when you buy, every scene unlocks, including the dinner one. Change a dish, move the time or add a photo later and the link stays the same: guests see the updated version without anyone resending an envelope. Pick a design, write the three dishes, and send it today.