Steve chuckled softly, "The name is sort of a joke." he explains, moving back toward the counter, using his knife to cut three slices of bread off the loaf before buttering them up and putting them in the oven to toast. "But it is for Bucky. I used to make it before the war. I worked at a grocery store then, they used to give me the stuff they couldn't sell and I'd try to make my mom's soup out of it. The first time I made it I didn't cut off enough of the rotted parts and Bucky said it tasted like I boiled a sock. The name kind of stuck."
He pulled the toast from the oven and cut each piece in half diagonally, pulling out some jam and sitting down at the table with her, setting a plate with two pieces in front of her and keeping one in front of himself. "He always loved it so...I thought it might make him feel better."