The cuisine of Mexico’s Yucatán peninsula is not known for subtlety. It's packed with pork meatloaf in inky black relleno negro sauce, gloppy achiote-stained cochinita pibil, meat-stuffed wheels of Edam cheese, dank and smoky longaniza sausage from Valladolid, pickled turkey, and the deliciously greasy tostadas called salbutes and panuchos...all of it doused in blindingly hot habanero salsa.

And yet, it was the delicate pastel-green egg tacos, sticking out like ladyfingers in a sea of chocolate truffles, that made the biggest impact on me during my first trip there.

These were papadzules, and I soon found out that these double-sauced tacos are ubiquitous throughout the Yucatán peninsula.

Papadzules brilliantly showcase core staples of the Mayan kitchen: corn, squash seeds, tomato, egg, and little else. (Originally, the eggs would have been from wild and domesticated turkeys—chickens arrived with the Spanish—and possibly ducks and iguanas.) The name is something of a mystery. One oft-repeated translation is something akin to “nobleman’s meal.” But in 1942, Mayan scholar and linguist Dr. Alfredo Barrera Vásquez, in the Yucatan newspaper Diario de Sureste, devoted a column to “papasul,” reaching back to 16th century texts to conclude that it simply means “unctuous meal.” That it is.

Like all dishes in the enchilada pantheon, papadzules are all about the tortillas and sauce. The egg acts more as a garnish than a filling (which doesn't mean papdzules don't also make a killer breakfast). Each component only has a few ingredients, but the pumpkin-seed sauce can present problems, since it can break if too hot, and congeal if too cold.

Chef Ricardo Muñoz Zurita, in Larousse Cocina Mexicano, advises that the tortillas be good quality and just made, and to serve the papadzules warm, but not hot. He notes that while the laborious extraction of the pumpkin-seed oil (as detailed in Diana Kennedy’s recipe, below) is a tasty luxury, the process has largely vanished among contemporary cooks since it reabsorbs into the sauce anyway.

Chef Roberto Solís, of Mérida’s Néctar, says the key is working fast, since the papadzules are not heated after assembly. “I’d say the most common errors are letting the sauce break, not sufficiently infusing the hot water with epazote, and serving too cold,” he says. “You have to have very agile hands to quickly coat the tortillas, fold the egg in them, add more sauces and final touches, while being as clean as possible and without them getting cold.”

The real excitement here is the double whammy of sauces. The pepita sauce is nutty and ultra-rich; the tomato sauce provides contrast, like jelly to peanut butter; and neither sets your tongue on fire like that habanero salsa.