Until recently, Americans didn’t appreciate the simple beauty of eggs. Yes, they knew eggs could raise baked goods, enrich a casserole, and elicit a smile if presented sunny-side up at breakfast, with fat pieces of crusty potato beside them.

But where Chinese cooks stirred an egg into fried rice or dropped one into bubbling soup, French cooks added an egg and bacon to frisee lettuce, and North Africans poached them in spicy tomato sauce, chefs here were still using them in cooking — as ingredients really, rather than celebrating the perfect ovoid on its own.

Then the light dawned (or as my friend likes to say, “dawn breaks over Marblehead”), and eggs were everywhere: a fried egg might appear on a seared pork chop, a poached egg on steamed asparagus, a soft-cooked egg on a grain bowl, a jiggly egg on cheese pizza. Tender whites and yolks that spill open with the touch of a fork are extremely appealing we all discovered, and not just at breakfast.