Papadzules are one of the oldest things still cooked regularly in Yucatecan kitchens. The whole plate comes from three ingredients that were here long before anyone arrived with a pig or a cow: corn, squash seeds and tomatoes. The egg is the one part that came later, and it slipped in so early that nobody thinks of it as an addition. The name is Yucatec Maya. It is often glossed as food for the lords, though that reading is argued over, and the more careful answer is that we do not know for certain.

The sauce is the dish. Pumpkin seeds are toasted dry, ground fine, then worked with warm water that has had epazote boiled in it. As you knead the paste, a green oil separates out and rises. That oil is not waste and it is not skimmed away for tidiness. It is saved and spooned over the finished rolls, which is why a proper plate of papadzules has a slick of dark green on top of the red tomato. Without it the dish looks flat and tastes flat.

You find papadzules at midday, in market fondas and at home, and they turn up at family gatherings where a large tray can be assembled ahead and covered. The flavour is soft and quite gentle: nutty from the seeds, faintly resinous from the epazote, sweet and slightly smoky from the roasted tomato, with the habanero sitting behind it all rather than in front. It is filling without being heavy. Cold beer or a cold hibiscus water both work.

Two things go wrong. The first is toasting the seeds too hard. They need heat only until they swell and smell like popcorn, no colour to speak of, because scorched seeds make a bitter grey sauce that nothing will fix. The second is boiling the pumpkin seed sauce. It is not a sauce you simmer. Heat it gently, keep it at the temperature of a hot bath, and if it splits or turns grainy you have taken it too far. Salted, oil-roasted snacking pepitas are the third mistake, and the least forgivable, because the salt cannot be taken back out.