Chaya is a shrubby tree with broad, lobed leaves that grows almost without attention across the Yucatan Peninsula. It sits in yards, by back doors, along the edges of solares, and it is cut from rather than harvested: you take what you need for breakfast and the plant pushes out more. The Maya name for the plant is chay, and it has been a household green here for a very long time. Nobody buys it in large quantities because nobody needs to.

The dish itself is as plain as it sounds. Leaves are stripped from their stems, boiled, chopped and stirred into eggs, usually with a little onion and tomato cooked down first. It is eaten in the morning, with hot corn tortillas and a spoonful of habanero salsa, often alongside black beans. In many houses it appears two or three mornings a week without anyone deciding on it.

The flavour is milder than spinach and less metallic than chard, with a soft, slightly thick texture once cooked. It does not disappear into the egg the way spinach does; the pieces stay distinct and a little chewy. The tomato provides enough moisture for the pan that the eggs stay loose, which is the texture people here want. Dry, firm scrambled eggs are considered a mistake.

The thing visitors get wrong is treating chaya as a salad leaf. The raw leaf contains a stinging sap and compounds that require heat, so it is always cooked, never eaten raw, and the boiling water is discarded. A short boil of five to ten minutes is enough. The second mistake is underestimating how much it shrinks. A bag that looks like far too much will reduce to a couple of handfuls, and a timid bunch will vanish into six eggs, leaving you wondering where the chaya went.