Chef's Love Soup

[touchingcloth]

This has appeared on my work canteen's weekly menu. Lest you think this is some kind of lame,  quasi-racist dig at a poorly executed translation by an illiterate minimum wage serf in foreign, you should know that I work in Engerland, England, Britain, and that the person who writes the menu is an English British man from Engerland, England, Britain. To the best of my knowledge, he has neither the kind of sense of humour which would see him sneak such an item onto the menu purely for lulz, nor the desire to liven up an otherwise bland menu through the use of adjective and the misleading impression that the chef pours a single iota of passion into his meals.

What can it possibly be? Feel free to speculate, and I'll report back post prandially. I fucking love me a good bit of prand. Remember when northerners and southerners used to come to blows over whether their meals should be called "lunch", "dinner", "supper" or "tea"? So much more peaceful now that we all go round calling anything hot that goes in your mouth as prand. From reading the Guardian, I believe that David Cameron routinely has industry lobbyists over for kitchen prand. What a rum'un.