The Egg Problem

I bake too many chocolate chip cookies; I have to branch out. But by now I know my favorite recipe by heart and I have my technique down to a loving science (I will admit the refrigeration recommended in the Times over the summer helps), and, I've got to say, the cookies are good, so I make them. But here's a potential wrinkle in my always-have-home made cookies on hand ambitions: Free range farm market eggs. I bought some on Sunday and they're all the things they're supposed to be plus they vary in size, as eggs are wont to do. Now, when I was a child and my mother would describe the recipes her mother-in-law gave her as a new bride, she'd say, "I read the recipe and it said things like 'a half a small eggshell of water! How am I supposed to know what that is?'" Great laughter ensued. But here's the thing: If my grandmother eyeballed those eggs I got on Sunday, which happened to have what I consider to be an unusual amount of size variation, she'd know exactly which eggs to use for her cookies and which to use for her mundel bread. She wouldn't wonder how the bigger egg would act, she'd know. She might pick it up, roll it around her hand, and plop it back in the case. Wrong size. Too much white. But me? I don't know. I'll just have to practice, which, in practical terms, means more cookies.