The witch feeds the weary traveler

I know that the lady is a witch, but I decide to temporarily feign ignorance of her true nature. I suspect that she is doing likewise.

"Please, sit down at the table", the witch says. "I'll fix you something to eat."

I thank her as I pull out an old oak chair and take a seat at the humble table. A few minutes later, she places a steaming bowl of soup and a large mug of Metheglyn in front of me. It smells awful but, not wanting to offend my hostess or seem ungrateful for her hospitality, I take a tentative bite and find much to my surprise that the foul-smelling concoction tastes quite fair. Pausing between bites, I complement her on the excellent meal.

When I finish the first bowl, the lovely witch quickly replaces it with a second bowl while also refilling my mug with more wine. I hungrily devour the second bowl almost as quickly as the first. When I finish eating, I lean back in my chair contentedly. Then after drinking down the last of my wine, I inquire "what was in that wonderful soup?"