"P.S.B."

Imagine the scene.

It's lunchtime. You're in a restaurant with a friend, chatting happily. The waitress brings you a menu. It's exciting, what to have, what to have? The choice is immense. The steak? The chicken? The fish? O no!
Finally, you settle on something which looks quite nice. A goat's cheese salad. Mmm. You read the list of ingredients, getting exciting. "A goat's cheese salad," it says, "with beetroot, roasted red pepper, "P.S.B", toasted seeds and baby gem."
And your world falls apart. "P.S.B."? What can this mean? You like to think of yourself as a bit of a connoisseur when it comes to food. You eat out quite a bit, enjoy cooking. What is this "P.S.B." of which they speak?
It's written like that too. With quotation marks around it and full stops inbetween each letter. And in capitals. Like it's screaming at you. "P"! "S"! "B"! It becomes a chant in your mind, "P. S. B! P. S. B! P. S. B! P. S. B!"
What is it? Per Spoon and Bowl? Per Serving Bitesize? Passed Sell By? Pre Supper Binge? Please Stop Biting? Please Start Biting?

In your panic, you don't notice the arrival of the waitress to take your order. Your friend has already ordered and they are both looking at you, the silence grows and it's clear something is wrong.
Quietly you ask the waitress, as there's nothing else you can do, "Erm, what's P. S. B.?"
She looks at you as though speaking to an old deranged person who can't understand where 'outside' is.
"Purple sprouting broccoli," and it's clear she's also saying silently, "Obviously."
"O, I'll just have that then, yeh, the goat's cheese salad please," you say hurriedly and she departs.


"P. S. B."! Has the world gone insane? Since when did purple sprouting broccoli have it's own acronym? As though it's so universally recognised that it's ok to put it on menus now because it won't need explaining. As if it's up there with FIFA and OPEC in being letters that most people are familiar with.
"P. S. B.".... Ridiculous.