You can’t judge a book by its cover. Likewise, just because the meal set down in front of you looks like the chef ate grass clippings all morning, then regurgitated them onto your plate, doesn’t mean your food won’t be delicious. Even if you are told that the food on your plate has the capacity to block ATP production and cripple your entire nervous system in seconds, it might still be delicious. Indeed, beneath the sickening appearance and deadly chemical compounds may lie a jewel of a meal.

Such was the case with the pescado con la crema de chaya that I ordered in Progreso. A veritable debris heap, the food for which I had so trustingly agreed to pay 115 pesos initially looked to be a disappointment. But when I took my first bite, I fell in love. It was not the sweet tomatoes and shrimp of northern Campeche. It was not the thick, rich mole sauce of the inland. It was not the fiery jabañero from further up the coast. It was none of these things; and yet, it was all of them.

Uncooked, chaya leaves are poisonous. They release cyanide, which causes death. Death is a bad thing and not the primary goal when sampling the native fare of the Yucatán peninsula. Only in a country whose economy is largely dependent on cocaine and heroin could cyanide become a staple. But once cooked, the leaves become soft, more nutrient rich than spinach, and non-toxic. “Edible,” my friends, is a gross understatement. “Succulent” does not begin to do it justice. “Godly” is a good start.

And so I found my fate inextricably linked to that of the chaya leaves in front of me. Mankind had tamed the cyanide-laced deliciousness, which in turn, tamed me.