Eggs — especially ones from naturally raised, free-range chickens — can be morphed into dozens of pleasing dishes.

Most eggs are factory-farmed, more like products of industry than nature. They tumble off an assembly line into cartons and are shipped hither and yon until we plunk them into our shopping carts and bring them on home.

But once, not so long ago, when I was a working college student in Bellingham, I was privy to a hen house where the chickens recognized me, and I recognized them. I was even allowed to reach into their nests and gather their eggs - real eggs, warm, brown and solitary inside their shells. I saved lettuce scraps from the restaurant where I worked and delivered the leaves to the chicken yard in exchange for those lovely, warm orbs. Typically, I would carry the lettuce in a bag on my head. (In those days, I didn't own a car. I walked almost everywhere, and carried a lot of things around on my head.)

Once, walking toward home after closing the restaurant fairly late at night, I was bringing lettuce to the chickens and singing a song in what I thought was a fine operatic tenor. A window opened and a head popped out.

"Shut up down there!" someone cried.

Subdued, I sneaked into my neighbor's garden and deposited the lettuce. The next morning I came back for the eggs, and once I got them in the kitchen, I started cooking; finished my song, too. Ah, those were the days.

Since then, I've always carried this notion that I might eventually have chickens - and therefore eggs - of my own.

Serves 2

Soft white goat cheese like Montrachet has a distinctive tang and a satisfying flavor, but if goat cheese is not your cup of tea, consider making this omelet with Neufchâtel or cream cheese. 4 fresh eggs from free-range chickens 3 tablespoons butter, less if using a non-stick pan 3 ounces fresh white goat cheese Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste Toast 1. Break the eggs into a bowl and give them 12 or 15 swift strokes with a fork to combine the egg and yolk, but don¹t over-beat them. 2. In a slope-sided frying pan over medium-high heat, melt 2 tablespoons of the butter and, when it sizzles, pour in the beaten eggs. Reduce the heat to medium and, with a heatproof spatula, gently push the cooked eggs toward the center of the pan, allowing the runnier middle of the omelet to flow out toward the edges of the pan. 3. Rub the additional tablespoon of butter around the inside edge of the pan, and use the spatula to lift the edges of the omelet and let the butter slip underneath. The whole omelet should slide easily around the inside of the pan. 4. Crumble the goat cheese over the surface of the eggs, which should be puffed but still slightly runny. Sprinkle the cheese with salt and pepper and fold the omelet over the cheese. Rest a plate over the pan, then turn the whole affair over, depositing the omelet onto the plate. Cut the omelet in half and move half to another plate. Serve at once with hot, buttered toast. Print friendly version.

The closest I ever came to setting up my own coop came when I was watching an episode of Martha Stewart. I actually took notes, and made a list of what I would need in order to get started. Included on the list were one rooster, 12 hens, a warming light for the chicks, some number of yards of chicken wire, and the building supplies for a sturdy hen house. For a good 30 minutes, I was serious. Then I went off to work and forgot all about it.

The next day, I saw the list without the rose-tinted hues of the TV's cathode ray, and I came to my senses. Actually, it was my wife who brought me to my senses. "What's this?" she wanted to know, the chicken shopping list held accusingly between thumb and forefinger.

I was like a kid with a candy wrapper under my bed; what could I say? Keeping chickens right now would not be a good idea. I can barely take care of the cockatiel in my kitchen.

But when my neighbor in Bellingham had chickens, it thrilled me to no end to cook with eggs that were still warm from the chicken. I used them in homemade spinach pasta with spinach right out of the garden and in Swedish pancakes with fresh strawberries, also right out of the garden. I used them in homemade mayonnaise, in cakes and cookies, and best of all in simple omelets, left ever-so-slightly runny on the inside.

Julia Child has been known to mutter that "cooking without eggs isn't cooking at all." In her latest work, "Julia's Kitchen Wisdom," she writes, "Eggs appear throughout cookery not only as themselves in their omelet, scrambled, poached, stuffed, and soft-boiled guises but as puff producers in cakes and soufflés, as thickeners for sauces and custards, and, of course, as the starters for those two noble and addictive creations, hollandaise and mayonnaise."

Eggs are a staple, right up there with flour, milk and sugar. And just like those other icons of the American kitchen, they have been under attack in recent decades by well-meaning revolutionaries hoping to steer us all down a road to better nutrition through tofu, canola oil and aspartame.

Once, though, eggs were simply nourishing and delicious. And we were all as innocent about any potential harm from eggs as I was when I walked down the street with lettuce on my head singing songs at midnight.

Back then, eggs in supermarkets were not even refrigerated, and poultry farms were not as closely watched by health inspectors as they are today. I think eggs may be safer now, and there are certainly a lot more choices in the egg department. Eggs from naturally raised, free-range chickens cost a little more, but they are widely available, and they seem better than ordinary eggs.

If your eggs come from a reliable source, and if they're fresh, you might want to risk an old-fashioned Caesar salad now and again, or even a slightly runny omelet. Serve it with a simple green salad for an easy lunch or a light supper.

Greg Atkinson, Canlis executive chef, is the author of "In Season" (1997) and "The Northwest Essentials Cookbook" (1999) from Sasquatch Books. Susan Jouflas is a Seattle Times news artist.