Every Sunday we visited my granny for our Sunday dinner. Myself and four of my cousins. Every week it was the same menu. There was a large tureen of boiled potatoes and another tureen of of some kind of soup or broth.
My granny always called it "remanded soup" but nevertheless we devoured it with relish. Although the soup always tasted the same there was a kind of magic about it, especially when we dropped a few boiled potatoes in it.
As we grew older we began to ask questions, one of the questions was "why do you call this remanded soup granny". "I'll tell you why," she said, "I always make it on a Saturday, then I remand it for a day because I know you vultures are coming up the next day. So I remand it overnight."
Then it made sense of course, but it tasted just as great as when we knew it only as "remanded soup".