Nine items. Five ingredients in the thing that used to have thirty-eight. The same price at every table on earth, printed next to what it cost us to make it.
Set the slider to how many ingredients a nugget on the usual menu has. Watch which ones are food.
Fast food was a good idea once: a hot meal, the same everywhere, cheap, quick. Then it learned that the cheapest ingredient is the one you can't taste and can't name, and the menu grew to hide it. Thirty-eight ingredients in a nugget is not a recipe. It is a legal document.
This counter goes the other way. A short menu you can hold in your head. A price that does not change because of what city you're standing in or what your phone tells the register about you. And the receipt, itemized, on the tray, before you ask — because a place that won't tell you what its food cost is a place hoping you won't work it out.