Tonight, Mariela is cooking mole.
This afternoon Mariela decided to make her grandmother's mole. She is permitted to sell it from her own kitchen, so she opened Silo, took one warm photo, set twelve portions, and a pickup window from 6 to 7 PM. That is a drop: a real meal, a real count, a real window. The card on the right is what landed in front of every neighbor within walking distance.
From seeing it to eating it, in four taps and a short walk.
Open the app and Mariela's mole is right there, with the dish, the window, the distance, and the price. No menus to dig through.
Tap reserve and pay in the app. Mariela cooks only what sells, so paying is what holds your plate and tells her to make it.
Your exact address unlocks just before the window. You walk three blocks instead of waiting on a driver who never came.
Mariela scans the QR in your order, hands you the mole hot, and you have met a neighbor. That is the whole thing.
A drop is a living thing with a day.
A drop is not a restaurant that is always open. It is one meal, on one day, with a real number of portions. Here is Mariela's mole from the moment she posts it to the last plate handed over, so nothing about the timing is a surprise.
Exactly what happens when you arrive.
The address unlocks.
Before you order you see the approximate area and how far it is. Your order reveals the exact address shortly before the window, so a cook's home is never posted to strangers.
You show your code.
Your order holds a QR code. Mariela scans it from her phone to confirm it is you and that your plate is paid for. No cash, no fumbling, no awkward math at the door.
You take it hot.
She hands you the mole, still warm. Maybe you talk for a minute, maybe you do not. Either way you just ate dinner from someone on your own block.
You pay in the app the moment you reserve, so there is nothing to settle at the door. The cook is paid to their bank through Stripe within about two business days. If a drop sells out, you can ask to be told about the next one. If a cook ever has to cancel, you are refunded in full. See the honest math.
A permitted kitchen, and a real person you can see.
The honest worry about home cooking from a stranger is whether it is safe and legal. On Silo it is both, on purpose. Every cook is a licensed home kitchen, and you always know exactly whose food you are eating before you order.
Silo is not a smaller delivery app. It is a different idea.
The same story, from Mariela's side of the stove.
Selling on Silo is meant to feel like cooking for friends, not running a restaurant. Here is the whole loop, the one Mariela just did.
One photo, what you are making, how many, and a pickup window. About three minutes from your phone.
Neighbors reserve and pay up front. You see your count fill in real time, with zero risk that no one shows.
Only what was bought, fresh, on your own time. Nothing wasted, nothing thrown out at the end of the night.
Scan each code, hand over the meal, and Stripe pays you to your bank in about two business days.
One short walkthrough, start to finish.
A twenty-second clip of a real drop, from posting to the meal in a neighbor's hands, lives here once the pilot films one. Honest footage only, never a stock reel.
Do I have to order ahead, or can I buy on the spot?
Where exactly do I pick up my meal?
Is home-cooked food from a stranger actually safe?
How does payment work?
What if a drop sells out or gets cancelled?
Now you know the whole thing.
You reserve a meal from a licensed neighbor and walk over to pick it up hot, and the cook keeps almost all of it. That is Silo.