Ever place an order without cheese? Spring onion, maybe? Pickle. What you do you feel when you find that unwelcome guest in your mouth?

The salty brine jumped out at her, slipping from between the meat batty and bun. The flavour perfumed her mouth erupting across her tongue. Her lips recoiled, pressing towards her ears as the moist lump flopped out and onto a waiting napkin. The swigs of sweet lemonade worked hard to scrub the taste of pickle from her mouth as frustrated eyes flitted to the receipt which confirmed, “no pickles”.