I watched with great interest as she poured from the assembled beakers, mason jars, and bins of powders with acrid and pleasant scents. She poured into the carafe of a blender, adding a melange of colors and scents that were pleasing individually, but an assault to my nose and eyes. It took on a mottled brown and black, and the scent which was at first flowery erupted into something noxious like sulfur.
With the addition of some crystals that looked like sugar, only octagonal, the concoction smelled like roast beef with a side of turpentine.
She threw in a few dried berries, slapped the lid on, and blended it until it was an abnormal consistency. Something in the mix thickened up, refusing to break down into a smooth liquid. When done she dropped a slice of lemon in, and sprinkled what looked to be chocolate chips on top.
She plunged the straw in, then proceeded to suck most of it down in one long draw.
"What was that?" I asked.
"Hangover cure. At least I hope so. That or I'm going to turn into a prehensile mushroom."