Sopa de lima belongs to Yucatán, not to Tulum, and it does not travel well in name. The lima in question is lima agria, a knobbly, thin-skinned citrus with a green-yellow rind and a flavour that sits somewhere between lime, grapefruit and something faintly floral. It is sour, but the sourness has a bitter edge that regular Persian lime never gives. In the markets of Mérida and Valladolid it is sold loose by the kilo, and in Tulum you can usually find it at the Friday market or in the small fruit shops off the highway, though not every week.

The broth underneath it is turkey in the older version and chicken in most kitchens now. Turkey is what appears at weddings, novenas and the days around Christmas, when a bird is already being cooked for something else and the carcass goes into the pot. The seasoning is restrained: toasted Mexican oregano, allspice, a couple of cloves, black pepper, garlic, onion. There is a light sofrito of tomato, onion and sweet chile, usually x'catic, but the soup should stay clear enough to see the shredded meat at the bottom of the bowl.

What people get wrong is the lime. Squeezing a lot of juice into a hot pot and letting it boil turns the soup flat and metallic. The juice goes in off the heat, at the end, and the classic trick is to char one half of a lima on a dry comal and drop it into the pot for a few minutes so the oils in the peel perfume the broth without leaching bitterness. Leave a whole lima simmering for half an hour and you get a soup nobody wants to finish.

The tortilla strips are not a garnish you can skip. They are fried until properly hard, added to the bowl just before the broth so they soften unevenly, some pieces still snapping and some gone soft. Habanero goes on the table, not in the pot. Served hot at midday, it is a light meal in a place where light meals matter, and it is one of the few soups people here will eat in May.