The house special arrived in a large lidded clay pot. Inside was a thick stew-like mixture filled with chunks of steak, chicken, chorizo, some square bits that Megan told me were cactus, all held together in a stringy morass of cheese. Fresh tortillas were delivered in a small basket. Megan grabbed one and held it like an open book.

“Scoop some of that on to one of these, fold it up like this-” she said, demonstrating slowly for my benefit, “-and then repeat as necessary.”

I watched her take her first bite. She actually closed her eyes to savor the taste. When she opened them again, her eyes seemed brighter. “Oh man, it’s so good.”

The tortilla was nice, warm and slightly moist. Using my fork, I stirred the meats around in the red sauce before finally settling on a piece of pork. I pulled it up with a wad of cheese that stretched out bridging the distance between my tortilla and the clay pot.

Megan watched me as I chewed experimentally. It tasted good but I couldn’t help feeling that something was wrong.