Momos from 10th Mile, thukpa from Damber Chowk, cheese straight off the dairy floor. Order in a few taps and a rider who knows every shortcut between Teesta and Deolo brings it up to your door — no street address needed. We're finishing the climb up the hill ourselves, and opening the doors soon.
First 500 on the waitlist get free delivery on their first five orders.
Pemba is climbing Rinkingpong Road. Two turns to go.
Hilltop Momo House, 10th Mile → Deolo Road, above the water tank
Ordering food in a hill town has always meant a phone call, a rough guess and a wait. We replaced all three with something you can watch happen.
Everything open right now, sorted by how far up or down the hill it is from you. Closed kitchens don't waste your time by showing at all.
Nobody in Kalimpong navigates by house number. Say "yellow gate above Nirmala's shop" and add a photo of your door. That's your address, saved for next time.
Your order lands on the kitchen's screen and they confirm it before your money moves. If they're slammed, you're told in seconds — not after twenty minutes of silence.
We assign the rider already heading your way, and quote an ETA that accounts for the gradient, the weather and the state of the road today.
Live position on the route, with the elevation you're watching them cover. One tap calls the rider if your gate is hard to spot after dark.
UPI before, or cash into a hand at the door. Riders carry change. Nothing about paying should be the difficult part of dinner.
Built on the same platform that runs ordering for restaurants and hotels across the region — rebuilt around the one thing Kalimpong has that a flat city doesn't.
Save a place by what it's next to, with a photo of the gate. Riders get the picture, not a pin in a field.
See where your rider is and how much climb is left. The number that moves is the one that matters.
Quoted from gradient, weather and time of day. If it's going to be forty minutes, we say forty.
Kitchens set their own hours and mark items sold out in one tap. You never order something that isn't there.
Share a cart link with the house. Everyone adds their own thing, one bill arrives at the door.
Your Tuesday thukpa is one tap from the home screen. Same kitchen, same notes, same door.
Dalle levels, no-onion-no-garlic, extra soup, less oil — sent to the kitchen as a note they actually read.
One tap connects you through a masked number. Neither of you ends up with the other's phone number.
The whole app, in either. Switch any time from settings without losing your place.
No terminal to buy, no tablet on a shelf. The kitchen screen runs in a browser on whatever you already own.
Nothing is confirmed to the customer until you say yes. Busy night? Pause new orders with one switch.
Photograph your printed menu and it's transcribed into a live, editable menu — sections, prices and all.
Momos finished at 8pm? One toggle takes them off every phone in town at once.
Set how long each dish really takes. Your number feeds the customer's ETA instead of our guess.
Every kitchen gets its own address on Mitho Masino to put on a signboard, a card or a WhatsApp status.
Cash and UPI reconciled every morning, with a clear line for what we took and what's yours.
What sold, when it sold, and which day of the week your kitchen is quietly losing money on.
Orders queue locally and sync the moment the line comes back. A dropped connection doesn't lose a ticket.
Assignments account for climb, not just kilometres. Nobody gets sent up Deolo four times in a row.
Delivery pay is weighted by elevation gained. A hard climb earns more than an easy roll downhill.
Every rider starts with a proper thermal bag. Food arriving cold is a kit problem, so we solved it as one.
Gate photos come with the job. New riders find the hard addresses first time, not on the third call.
Go online when you want. No minimum hours, no penalty for a quiet week.
Earnings land in your account at the end of your shift, not at the end of the month.
When the road's bad, we cut the radius and raise the pay. Nobody is asked to ride through a landslip.
Calls are masked in both directions. Your personal number never reaches a customer.
Every rider is covered while on an active delivery. It's included, not an add-on you have to find.
Still how most of Kalimpong pays, so it's a first-class option, not a fallback buried in a menu.
Pay from whatever's on your phone. The QR is generated per order and expires with it.
Float is issued at the start of every shift, so a ₹500 note isn't a problem at your gate.
Ordered for the whole house? Split it per person at checkout and everyone pays their own way.
Every order stores its prices at the moment you placed it. A later menu change never rewrites your receipt.
Delivery and taxes shown before you confirm, in full. The total at checkout is the total at the door.
Kalimpong's roads are modelled with real gradient data, so distance is never mistaken for effort.
Live updates first, automatic polling as a fallback. The app keeps working on a patchy hillside connection.
Menus and images are compressed hard. A full evening of ordering costs a few megabytes.
We aren't spread across forty cities. Every road on this map has been ridden by someone on the team.
Masked calls, no location tracking when you're not expecting an order, and no selling your data. Ever.
Ordering, kitchen and reporting run on Plateform.cloud, the platform behind restaurants and hotels across the hills.
Food delivery was designed for grid cities — flat streets, numbered houses, ten-minute promises. None of that describes Kalimpong. So we started from the hill and built outwards.
Nobody here says "42B". They say "the blue gate below the church". So that's what we ask for — a landmark, a photo of your door, and a note for the rider. Saved once, used forever.
Plot 42B, Ward 9, KalimpongRider arrives at a junction with four unmarked lanes and starts calling.
Yellow gate, second house above Nirmala Stores, Chibo RoadPhoto of the gate attached. No call needed.
From June the hill changes character. When the roads go bad we shrink delivery radii, extend every ETA honestly and raise rider pay — automatically, before anyone has to ask.
Insulated bags on every rider, momo boxes that vent instead of sweating, and soup carried separately from what it goes on. Twenty minutes uphill shouldn't cost you a crisp edge.
When the power goes, kitchens keep taking orders on a phone and orders queue until the line returns. Nothing is lost between a cut and a comeback.
Whether you run a momo counter with one window or three restaurants across town, you get the whole product. Plans differ only in how much of your business they cover.
One cook, one window, food people already come looking for.
12% per order
A full restaurant with a busy evening service and a menu that changes.
15% per order
Several branches, or a hotel with more than one kitchen, under one login.
15% per order
Hotels, institutions, caterers and anyone who doesn't fit a row on a table.
Let's talk
0% for your first 60 days, on every plan. No joining fee, no lock-in, and you can pause your listing any time from your own screen.
We'd rather cover one hill completely than half of six. Here's exactly where a rider will come from day one — and what we're opening right after.
Not on the list? Tell us where you are and we'll ride it. Most new areas open within a fortnight of the first request.
Soon — we're finishing rider onboarding and the last few kitchen menus now. Join the waitlist and we'll message you the exact date before anyone else hears it, along with the launch-week offer.
Almost nobody here does, and it isn't a problem. Drop a landmark, add a photo of your gate and a line for the rider — "green shutter, opposite the tailor". We save it, and every future order to that door is already solved.
That's the whole promise, and it's why we bothered with the elevation work. Every rider carries an insulated bag, soups travel separately from what they're poured over, and we route by climb rather than distance so a hot order isn't sitting on a bike waiting for the wrong turn.
Yes, and it's a first-class option rather than something hidden at the bottom of checkout. Riders start each shift with change, so a ₹500 note won't hold anyone up at your gate.
The bazaar and the main roads run until the last kitchen closes, usually around 9:30pm. Higher areas like Deolo and Durpin run peak hours only — 11 to 3 and 6 to 9 — because riding those roads late is not something we'll ask anyone to do routinely.
Yes — the Home Kitchen plan exists for exactly that. Photograph your menu, we'll transcribe it, and you can be taking orders the same afternoon. No joining fee, and nothing to commit to.
We shorten radii, extend ETAs honestly and raise rider pay when the road is bad. If a route genuinely isn't safe, we close it and say so on the app rather than quietly letting the orders pile up.
A small team in Kalimpong, running on Plateform.cloud — the ordering and kitchen platform we also build for restaurants and hotels across the hills. Same roads, same people, same phone number at the bottom of this page.
Join the waitlist now, save your gate once when we open, and let the hill be our problem from then on.
Or talk to a person — +91 76028 54794