Ramen eggs are the best eggs. No question.

Some people might find certain contentment in the tidily tucked, Jacques Pepin-esque French omelette, or find joy in emulating Gordon Ramsay’s style of assaulted scrambled eggs, or even revel in the delicate balance of shock and salivation when faced with a Filipino balut. But for me, glorious eggy happiness comes in the form of ajitsuke tamago, or as they’re more commonly known—ramen eggs!

Soy-braised, soft-centered, and worthy of a Shakespearean soliloquy, ramen eggs are a dream. Each element of the ramen egg is near perfect.

Let’s start with the yolk. The yolk is a gentle gradient from just-set curds on the outside to a runny custard in the center, a hint at 63°C yolks before 63°C yolks were cool. Then, there’s the egg white, encasing the tender orange yolk within. Bouncy and gelatinous, the whites of a ramen egg serve as a canvas to the richness of the yolk, adding a supple bite, a textural contrast to the melted yolk. And then there’s the skin—stained earthy brown, smelling of soy and umami, and proudly Asian.

Like the best egg dishes—Pepin-esque omelettes, creamy scrambled eggs, and bulbous baluts included—ramen eggs come together in no time at all, and certainly a fraction of the time it takes to make actual ramen. To make them, just boil some eggs (6 minutes gives you the greatest yolk gradient in my tests), peel them, simmer some soy with Shaoxing, sugar, and spices, and submerge the eggs in the soaking liquid to infuse overnight. That’s it. With the littlest of effort, you get the bestest of eggs.

So give me ramen eggs over all other eggs any day of the ovulation cycle. They don’t even have to come with a bowl of ramen. Plonk them onto a bowl of rice, plunge them into porridge, or even just pop them straight into my mouth whole. This is an ovum deserving of an ovation, regardless of how you have it.