Much has been written about the increasing and alarming violence in Acapulco in recent years. Taxi drivers are murdered by the dozen, bodiless heads are left to be suntanned on the beach, and shootouts up in the hills can leave hundreds of bullet casings.

I confess that I subjected this huauchinango al mojo de ajo to ruthless and merciless treatment on a spring afternoon at El Amigo Miguel, a restaurant a stone's throw from Acapulco's zocalo.