Gardeners' Holidays 2021: Harvest Home (Halfway?)

The Gardeners' Holiday associated with the fall equinox is normally a little-bit-of-everything celebration. In late September, the tomato and pepper plants are generally producing at full steam, the basil is just winding down, the late beans and butternut squash are just coming into production, and the raspberry canes are in the middle of their second crop of the season. 

This year, however, we seem to have hit a bit of a lull just as the season was starting. There are currently no ripe tomatoes on the vines, not even among the ever-abundant Sun Golds, and only a couple of just-blushing peppers. Brian harvested all that was left of the basil last night to put into a Pasta a la Caprese, along with the week's whole crop of tomatoes (mostly the juicy Pineapple variety). And the green beans got munched early in the season by a deer that found its way into the garden, reducing our crop to just 15 ounces of the Provider beans and, so far, not a single pod off the climbing French beans. 

The squash plants do have a good amount of fruit on them — and although we planted only the Little Dipper variety this year, not all of them are little. But most of them aren't ready to harvest yet. So far, Brian has only gleaned one tiny squash from a vine that was already shriveled. 

However, that doesn't mean we have no squash to eat. Last year, we harvested a total of 21 squash, and Brian has been very parsimonious in doling them out, wanting to make sure that the supply would last until we were able to harvest more. So we still have two left from last year, and the arrival of the first squash of this year means that we are free to use them up at will. Thus, one of those last-generation squash is feeding us this evening in the form of a butternut squash pizza.

There's also one other crop that hasn't let us down: our trusty raspberries. Although the second raspberry harvest has slowed from its peak, I still got more than a cup of berries off the canes when I went out there this afternoon. And since the berries were probably too ripe to keep around for more than 24 hours, and since Brian and I are going to be busy all day tomorrow (going to a Renaissance Faire that doesn't allow any outside food or drink), we simply had no choice but to eat them tonight for dessert.

Our first thought was to make one of the rare exceptions to our no-dairy-at-home rule and pick up a cup of cream so we could make them into a raspberry fool, but when we got to the store, we found that cream was only available in quarts. That was more than we thought we could reasonably use, so we went with plan B, baking the berries into an apple-raspberry crisp. We'll enjoy that along with some entertaining international TV (we have several episodes of Taskmaster, both the original and New Zealand versions, and a new QI to choose from), then turn in early so we can get a good night's sleep before our day of carousing tomorrow. Huzzah!

Freecycle track record

My plans to celebrate the Jewish new year by getting rid of a bunch of stuff on Freecycle have not been altogether successful. Of the six items I posted — a working cordless phone, bottles of potassium and magnesium supplements, two partly-used containers of skin-care products, and a set of cheap cloth face masks from Target that didn't fit either me or Brian properly — only one (the magnesium supplements) was actually taken. The phone and the skin-care products all got "Hey, I'm interested" messages, but when I replied to the senders attempting to arrange an actual pickup, they all ghosted me. (Note to any Freecycle members reading this post: Please don't do that.)

The good news is, I was able to find good homes for three of the other items through other means. After taking another look at the masks, I concluded that it would only take a few stitches and some knots in the ear loops to adjust them to a size that I could use. So I did that with both masks, and I now have two more close-fitting masks to add to my rotation. And I was able to dispose of two other items by dropping them off yesterday on my parents' table at their local town-wide yard sale, where they were offering up a bunch of free items that they had purged from their storage room in the wake of last month's flood. We left all our unclaimed stuff on this table, and before we'd even finished locking up our car, a woman had pulled up, snagged the two skin-care products, and departed again. (Sadly, the cordless phone and the potassium supplements had not found takers by the end of the day, but we did score a few good finds for ourselves at the sales — two shirts for me, a working set of headphones for Brian, a book for one of our nephews, a piece of scrap wood, a quartz crystal that's useless but decorative, and a little tool for rounding off the corners of pages — all for less than $10. So I'd call that a win-win.)

Anyway, today I was entering the results of these efforts on my Freecycle log, which I started keeping back in 2014 to keep track of items I'd posted on Freecycle and which ones had been taken. And it occurred to me that this document provided an interesting record of our successes and failures with Freecycle over the past six-plus years. I won't reproduce the entire list, but here's a summary of the most pertinent facts:

Since December 2014, we have offered 126 items up on Freecycle. Of those items, we successfully gave away 89 through the site, a success rate of about 70%. Most of these items were requested by only one or two people, but a few scored multiple requests. The most in-demand items were:

• A couple of Pyrex bowls (acquired as part of a set when we only needed the largest one), with seven requests
• A specialty cake pan for baking a cake in the shape of a train (scavenged from a freebie pile on a whim, and discarded after we learned my youngest nephew was no longer all that into trains), with six requests
  
• An antique pharmacy lamp that had belonged to Brian's grandfather, also with six requests
• We got four requests each for an IKEA table lamp, an indoor TV antenna, a set of cabinet organizer shelves, and my dad's old computer. Interestingly, my mom's computer, listed at the same time, got only two requests.

That leaves 37 items we could not find new homes for on Freecycle. We managed to give away 17 of these through other venues, mainly the Freecycle table at the Morristown Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, where the Troubadour concerts are held. This table, which sat outside the upstairs bathrooms, functioned as a miniature free store where people could drop off or pick up pretty much any small item, from books to coffee mugs. (Unfortunately, the table vanished in 2017, so I had to find new ways to dispose of things, including the local thrift shop and the Vietnam Veterans.)

Three of the remaining 20 items never found a taker and were eventually recycled. Our old printer and my mom's old scanner went to electronics recycling shed run by our local Department of Public Works, and a pair of CFL bulbs that didn't fit any of our lamps went into the recycling bin at Home Depot. So even if these items couldn't be reused, at least they didn't end up as toxic waste in a landfill.

There were two posts that we eventually retracted. One, as I mentioned above, was the pair of cloth masks that I ended up altering to fit me. The other was a square food container that we hadn't really been using, but once it became apparent no one else was interested in it, we decided to hold on to it rather than throw it away. It actually did prove useful for a while as a way to transport blocks of tofu purchased sans packaging at the Whole Earth Center, eliminating the need for disposable plastic bags. However, we haven't been able to get to the Whole Earth Center much lately, and on the few occasions when we've been there, the bulk tofu didn't appear to be available anymore. So this item may end up being relisted at some point.

The only items that never found homes were:

• Four teddy bears in like-new condition, including one quite nice one that still had its tags on. They're still sitting on our windowsill, since it seemed too cruel to just consign them to the trash.
• One unused oil filter for our old car, which we eventually had to throw away.
• One reusable plastic drinking cup with a lid and built-in straw, which is still taking up space in our cupboard.
• A pair of earrings made from some semiprecious stone I couldn't identify, which are still taking up space — but not too much — in my jewelry box. (The matching necklace was taken.)
• Our old cordless phone, which has so far been listed not only on Freecycle but also on our local Buy Nothing Group and in the "finds" section on our local Nextdoor group, all to no avail. (Maybe nobody around here uses landline phones anymore?) I guess we may end up taking this one to the recycling shed as well — a pity, since it still works, but the only reasonable alternative if no one wants it.
  
• A partly-used box of Tagamet (an anti-acid medication) and the partly-used bottle of potassium supplements I listed recently. I guess we can always dispose of these at our town's next medication takeback day, since it's not recommended to flush them down the toilet.

So, assuming my math is correct, our various efforts have successfully kept 116 items out of the landfill. Better still, 106 of those items went to people who (presumably) could use them, saving them money and saving the energy and natural resources that would have gone into making new items they would otherwise have purchased.

In short, Freecycle is a good, but not perfect way to dispose of unwanted items — particularly lamps, electronics, and kitchen gadgets (at least in our area). But some items — such as stuffed animals and over-the-counter drugs (at least in our area) — will never be all that welcome, and it's best to have alternative routes for getting rid of them. (Anyone know a good place to give away teddy bears?)

Recipe of the Month: Herbed Grilled Veggies and White Beans

Now that Brian and I have almost completely given up meat, grilling season isn't quite the same for us. We can't just throw a few hot dogs on the grill, along with some accompanying veggies, for a simple meal in the summertime. We've tried various brands of veggie dogs, but none of them were really satisfactory. And veggie burgers — even the new, meatier ones like Beyond Burgers — just don't seem to grill very well. 

So, this year, the main thing we've been grilling is zucchini. Last month, however, Brian decided to experiment by adding some eggplant slices to the grill as well. He salted them beforehand and dipped them in a mixture of oil, garlic, and fresh herbs, using a recipe he found at Every Last Bite. Then he cooked the veggies until they were charred and served them up over a bed of quinoa.

This was sort of a mixed success. The eggplant itself was lovely — flavorful and melt-in-your-mouth tender — but it didn't seem to integrate all that well with the quinoa and zucchini. They seemed like three unrelated things on the same plate, rather than parts of the same meal. I found that it worked a bit better if I cut small pieces of the zucchini and eggplant and dished them up with the quinoa, but it still didn't quite taste like a coherent whole.

So the next time he made the same dish, Brian decided to mash up the grilled eggplant and dish it out over the quinoa like a sauce. He couldn't add a zucchini to the mix, since our plants have finished producing for the year. However, he knew from past experience that red bell peppers combine well with eggplant, so he decided to add one of them, dunking both veggies in the same herb mixture before grilling them. And when he asked me whether he should add some white beans to give the dish a little more protein, I suggested steeping the beans in the remainder of the marinade, so they'd pick up some of its flavor. So he soaked the beans in the bowl full of marinade while the veggies cooked on the grill, then tossed everything into a pan and cooked it together until it was heated through.

The result was a lot better than his first attempt. The eggplant, as before, was smoky, garlicky, and meltingly soft; the pepper was also tender but a bit firmer, adding a pleasant contrast in texture and a different, yet compatible flavor. The firmness of the beans gave it a bit more flavor contrast, as well as adding substance to the dish. And it all mixed nicely with the starchy, nutty quinoa.

If this dish had a weakness, it was that the beans weren't as flavorful as the rest of the ingredients. They didn't really soak up the herbs and garlic the way the veggies did, nor mix as well with the veggies as the quinoa. For future attempts, he might cook the beans and veggies together a bit longer so the flavors can blend more.

But even as is, this is a highly satisfying vegan dish with a good blend of flavors and textures, perfect for early fall. It's certainly worthy of printing in full:

Herbed Grilled Veggies and White Beans
1 (2 lb.) eggplant, peeled and sliced thickly (c. ¾ in.)
1 medium red bell pepper
1 15 oz. can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
¾ tsp salt

Marinade:
½ cup olive oil
4 cloves garlic, chopped
2-3 Tbsp fresh oregano, snipped
2-3 Tbsp fresh parsley, snipped
¼ tsp salt
grind black pepper

 

Quinoa:

1 cup dry quinoa

1 ½ cups water

1 tsp vegetable soup base (we use Penzey’s)
 

1. Spread the eggplant out on a cloth and salt both sides of each slice. Allow to rest for at least 15 minutes. Afterward, dry off the slices to remove any liquid along with some of the salt.
2. Mix together the ingredients of the marinade and apply to the eggplant (use a container from which you can scavenge any leftover marinade). Make sure the eggplant is completely coated. Also brush the pepper with plain olive oil.
3. Scrape the leftover marinade into a bowl with the beans and stir to coat. Set aside.
4. Set up the grill. Grilling over charcoal or wood is highly recommended (we use Royal Oak charcoal), as the smokiness is an important component of the flavor.
5. When the charcoal is ready, place the slices of eggplant and the whole red bell pepper on the grill. Grill for 10-20 minutes (this will depend on the grill), turning every 5 minutes, until the vegetables are well-browned (and before the eggplant falls completely apart). Remove the vegetables as they are done and place them in a covered bowl.
6. While the vegetables are grilling, you can cook the quinoa. Mix the water and soup base thoroughly, add to a pressure cooker, and heat on high. Add the dry quinoa, then put the lid on the cooker. When the cooker begins to sputter, cook for one minute, then remove from heat and set aside. (If you do not have a pressure cooker, you can cook quinoa by your preferred method instead).
7. When the vegetables are off of the grill, heat the beans and the remaining marinade in a skillet for a few minutes. This will give the pepper time to steam itself a bit in the bowl.
8. Remove the pepper from the bowl and dice it up, removing the stem and seeds as you do so. Add the diced pepper and the eggplant to the pan. Mix and heat through, salting to taste, then serve with the quinoa.

Starting the year off light

Tomorrow night is the start of Rosh Hashanah, the beginning of the Jewish year. Most years, I mark this occasion by going to services with my parents at their synagogue (either with both of them in the evening, or with just Mom in the daytime). But this year, the synagogue remains officially closed; the only in-person event will be an outdoor barbecue, and the service itself will be entirely virtual for the second year in a row. I can't log into that virtual service from home since I'm not officially a member, and we agreed that it would be a bit silly for me to go to my parents' house just so we could watch it together on the computer. So I need to find some other way to commemorate the occasion.

Now, one ritual associated with Rosh Hashanah is Tashlich, or "casting off." You go to a nearby body of water, ideally a flowing river or stream, and throw bread crumbs into it to symbolize casting off your sins. (Actually, it's apparently more popular these days to throw leaves or pebbles, since bread crumbs aren't good for the wildlife.) If that word "sins" has too much baggage for your taste, you can think of it instead as ridding yourself of anything unwanted or harmful in your life: bad habits, unwelcome thoughts, anything that's weighing you down and keeping you from living the kind of life you aspire to.

I tried taking part in this ritual last year, going down to the park and attempting to toss crumbs off the dock into the Raritan River, but the area was crammed with members of a local synagogue who'd come for the same reason. So this year, I'm taking a different approach: I'm going to rid myself of excess baggage by Freecycling it.

I'd already made a start last week by listing our old cordless phone, which we replaced earlier this year because it had become unreliable after we switched back to Verizon. (Occasionally, for no apparent reason, it simply didn't ring when a call came in.) Only one person replied to that post, saying only "I'm interested," but apparently they weren't interested enough to respond when I suggested they fix up a time for pickup. (Why do people do that?) I followed up by listing it on my local Buy Nothing Group, which I've recently joined via Facebook, but so far no takers there either.

But I refused to let this setback daunt me. Today I went through the drawer in our bathroom that serves as an overflow medicine chest and purged two bottles of skincare products and three bottles of mineral supplements that hadn't worked for me. Within minutes of listing them, I already had inquiries about three of these items, and one of them is already gone. That's a promising start.

While I'm at it, I'm doing my best to clear a backlog of other stuff, too. Catching up on long-overdue cleaning tasks, like washing all the glasses on my stemware rack (and the rack itself). Getting up-to-date with all my various medical checkups. And most importantly, finally getting around to donating the remainder of the stimulus money we received during the pandemic. Since we didn't need this money ourselves, we've been trying to donate it in ways that support the community, such as funding a local summer outdoor movie series and helping to Kickstart the coolest bookmobile ever. So today, I sent a message to inquire about donating the $1500 or so we have left to a fund for local businesses. (I'd tried inquiring about this before, but got no response, so this time I decided to try filling out the online form as if I were a business seeking funds and explaining that my "proposed project" is to support other businesses.)

Between freeing myself of things I don't need and getting money to businesses that do need it, I'd say I'm getting the year off to a good start. I may not be exactly free of sin, but I think actively doing something good is probably more helpful than making a promise — which may not even last the whole year — to quit doing something bad.

Recipe of the Month: Summer Fruit Smoothie

First of all, apologies for not managing to get a blog entry up last weekend. I was planning to write one on Sunday, but on Sunday morning we got a call from my dad asking to borrow our wet-dry vacuum. In the aftermath of Hurricane Henri, the lower level of my parents' house had flooded for the first time in the 47 years they'd lived there. The carpet was completely soaked, along with everything else within an inch of the floor. And the damage wasn't confined to their house; as of that morning, all the cars parked on the main drag were up to their axles in water. This is global warming in action, folks.

So we ending up spent that whole afternoon and well into the evening literally bailing him out. Fortunately, our little Shop-Vac (which Brian has dubbed "Artoo") didn't have to do the job on its own; a contractor friend of theirs came by with a much larger one. He also advised Dad to get the carpet out of there as soon as possible, before mold could develop. So we spent much of the day moving furniture and accessories off of the carpet (hauling them outside to dry when possible), sucking water out of it and the padding below, cutting them both into strips, rolling them up, and removing them. But little Artoo proved handy for squeezing in between the cars in the driveway, which had also become waterlogged in the flood.

Anyway, by the time we got home, it was too late to do much except tumble into bed. So it wasn't until this weekend that I got around to trying the new recipe I'd had in mind for August: a summer fruit smoothie.

After about a month and a half and close to 95 pounds in total, our plum harvest is finally tapering off. The red Opal plums are gone, and Brian has picked as many as he could reasonably reach with the aid of a stepladder from the Mount Royal (blue) and Golden Gage (yellow) trees. We might still manage to shake a few more ripe ones down from the Golden Gage, but by the time this week is out, we shouldn't need to make room in the fridge for two or three baking pans full of plums anymore.

But at the same time, another summer fruit is just getting started: our fall crop of raspberries. We already got around 15 pints off the canes in June and July, and now production is ramping up again. With both plums and raspberries in the fridge, I realized we were going to have trouble keeping up if we didn't find some way to use them both up in bulk. And the best way I could think of to do that was to blend them all into a smoothie.

Making this was super simple. The last time he picked plums, Brian had found several that were partly damaged, so he cut out the bad spots and piled a quart container in the fridge full of the bits that were good. I just filled up a cup measure with those, aiming for about half blue and half yellow plums, and tossed in in the blender. Then I added half a cup of raspberries, about all we had at this point, and half a cup of orange juice (the extra-pulpy variety Brian likes). I then turned it to the Smoothie setting (the highest it has) and ran it until everything looked blended.

The mixture was an appealing shade of bright pink and surprisingly thick, considering that I hadn't added banana or yogurt to thicken it as most smoothie recipes recommend. The flavor, to my taste, was a bit on the tart side, certainly not as sweet as straight orange juice — though Brian, who is the main consumer of OJ in our house, said the sweetness level tasted just right to him. But it was certainly bursting with summer fruit flavor, and it made short work of a cup and a half of fruit.

This simple recipe should make it easy to use up the remainder of those miscellanous plum fragments, and to use up any whole plums that might be in danger of going bad before we can use them up. And better still, as we have both plums and raspberries in the freezer at this point, we can probably make this smoothie again even when the plum and raspberry crops are long gone. In the dead of next winter, a little taste of summer fruit will be a welcome change of pace.

One last chance for a price on carbon

This week we got some very bad news about climate change. The latest report from the IPCC tells us that, no matter what we do, the earth is going to continue to get hotter for at least the next 30 years. We're in for overall warming of at least 1.5 degrees Celsius, complete with life-threatening heat waves, crop-destroying droughts, increasingly powerful hurricanes, coral reef die-offs, and one to two feet of sea level rise. And that's the best outcome. If we don't take immediate and dramatic action to curb carbon emissions and start drawing down existing carbon — within the next four years — we could see warming of up to 4 degrees, which is pretty much game over.

But there was also some good news: our government is closer than ever before to doing something about it. The budget bill that just passed the Senate includes plans for a clean electricity standard, tax incentives and research grants for renewable energy, and tariffs on goods from countries with weaker emissions standards.

However, there's one piece that's missing: a carbon fee.

As I explained last year, this is an incredibly simple and powerful idea to reduce carbon emissions by simply making them more expensive. It requires no complicated government oversight and allows polluters to choose their own approach to reducing emissions, using existing technologies or developing new ones. It would let the market find the most cost-effective solutions automatically. And better still, the money collected from the carbon fee could be distributed directly to taxpayers as a carbon dividend, offsetting the increased costs of fuel (while still giving consumers an incentive to cut their usage and save still more). So it helps the climate and puts money straight into your wallet. Who could say no to that?

You can read more details about carbon taxes in my Money Crashers article on the topic, but according to The Atlantic, you'd be wasting your time. Last month, that publication declared the carbon tax — an idea it described as "straightforward, perhaps even beautiful" and "a particular favorite of the economics profession" — to be officially dead, saying President Biden had demonstrated an "utter lack of interest in passing it" in the face of overwhelming opposition from the fossil fuel industry. This despite the fact that lots of other countries already have them, and Europe is now planning an extra tax on imports from countries that don't.

But it doesn't have to be that way.

See, the infrastructure bill was just the appetizer. The main course is the budget bill the Senate also unveiled its plan for last week. It's going to include a lot of the clean-energy provisions that got cut from the infrastructure bill, and a price on carbon could be one of them — if enough people tell their members of Congress they want it. And you, yes, you, could be one of those people.

It's very simple. Just go to the website of the Citizens' Climate Lobby (CCL) and click on "Take Action" to "Write Congress" or "Call Congress," or both. It will find you the names and contact into of your Senators and Representative and even provide a message to include in your call or email. The CCL suggests wording the request slightly differently depending on whether your member of Congress is a Democrat ("I'm a constituent, and I’m calling/writing to urge you to support and advocate for a carbon price in the reconciliation package") or a Republican ("I'm a constituent, and I’m calling/writing to urge you to enact a federal carbon price so that U.S. businesses can avoid paying Europe’s border tariff and remain internationally competitive"), but either way, it takes five minutes.

If members of Congress are absolutely deluged with requests for a carbon fee, there's still a chance it can make it into the final budget. The CCL calls this the best chance we've had to get a carbon price through Congress in over a decade.

It's just five minutes of your time, and it could make all the difference for the future of our species.

My first made-from-scratch garment

My sewing skills are fairly rudimentary. I can replace a button, mend a torn seam, or darn a hole, but I've never considered myself up to making an entire garment from scratch. Even when it comes to alterations, I'm limited to small fixes that can be sewed by hand. (I do own a sewing machine, but I'm pretty much hopeless with it.)

But recently, I found myself in need of a garment I couldn't easily pick up at the store: a hat to go with Brian's Renaissance garb. It's been nearly eight years since we last went to a Ren Faire, but last year, as the weeks in pandemic isolation dragged into months, I found myself longing for that festival atmosphere. I mentioned this to a friend I play role-playing games with, and he expressed a similar hankering. Right then and there, we cooked up a plan to go to the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire as soon as conditions allowed — which turned out to be not until this fall. And eventually, we managed to get our entire RPG group on board.

So I started reassessing my garb and Brian's to see if we still had everything we needed. My outfit still fit, if a bit more snugly than it used to, but his was in need of some upgrades. His old pair of sweat pants had worn out, and he no longer had a pair that could pass muster as Renaissance breeches, so we had to find him a replacement, which turned out to be an adventure in itself. (It's all but impossible these days to find sweat pants in stores with the traditional gathered ankle, so we ended up having to order a pair online.) And the bedroom slippers he wore with his costume last time had proved unsuitable for serious walking, so we replaced those with a pair of slip-on leather shoes we'd picked up at a yard sale a few years back. (The tan shoes look a bit incongruous with his grey-and-black clothes, but I'm hoping to add a tan belt that will make the outfit a bit more coordinated.)

Looking this outfit over and comparing it with the costume guides on sites like RenFaire.com and FairsandFestivals.net, I realized there was still one key piece missing: a hat. A Renaissance gent can reasonably walk around in just a tunic and hose, but if he's outdoors with his head uncovered, he's going to look out of place.

Unfortunately, this wasn't a piece we were likely to be able to pick up in a thrift store. There are many hat styles appropriate to the Renaissance, from the Tudor flat cap to the tall hat associated with the Puritans, but there's not much overlap between them and the hats sold for men in the modern era. I did pop into the local thrift shop to see if by any chance they had a beret, which could potentially pass for a Renaissance muffin hat, but no such luck.

Still, I thought, at least some of these hat styles looked pretty simple, as hats go. Could it really be that hard to sew one from scratch? Could I find a pattern or a guide that would tell me how?

It turned out I could, eventually. The first few tutorials I found under "DIY Renaissance men's hat" made it seem really complicated. The Garbmonger's guide to making a Tudor flat cap had one whole page just explaining all the terms she was going to use, followed by four pages for the actual instructions — way more than I was going to be able to follow. A guide by Renaissance Tailor was a bit simpler, but it called for three layers of fabric, plus a layer of buckram (stiff lining) for the brim. That was more than I could scrounge up, and more than I was prepared to buy for a project that I might make a complete hash of. Especially when the cost of all those materials put together could come to more than a ready-made hat.

But eventually, I found a tutorial that looked like my speed — one that promised a "dead easy" method for constructing a "Kinda 15th Century Renaissance Hat." The material used in the pictures looked fairly substantial, so an old T-shirt wasn't going to serve the purpose, but I happened to have an old towel that I was planning to drop in the textile recycling bin because it had a stain on one end I couldn't get out. But there was still more than enough good material there to make the two pieces the tutorial called for: a band slightly longer than the circumference of the wearer's head, and a big circle with a diameter equal to three-quarters of that circumference measurement, or more if you want it "super floppy." (In my case, it ended up being just slightly more, since the only object I could find to trace around that was close to the right size was the brim of a witch hat I'd picked up for another costume.)

I didn't take any pictures during the assembly process, because it all went pretty much as outlined in the tutorial. The only part I had a bit of trouble with was Step 4, where you're supposed to "Put the two pieces of material together, so the correct sides of the material face inwards." Since the towel material was pretty much the same on both sides, it wasn't immediately apparent how this was supposed to work. But I eventually figured out that the bottom of the circle and the bottom of the band had to be lined up, back to back and edge to edge, and I managed to get the whole thing pinned into place (using large safety pins, since I didn't have any straight pins substantial enough to hold all those pleats of bulky fabric).

Sewing it up was a fairly laborious process, since I was working by hand and the fabric was quite thick. It took me several changes of thread to make it all the way around the hat and get the circle stitched to the band and the ends of the band stitched to each other. But the whole process didn't take more than an hour, and I felt certain it would have taken me at least that long just to set up the sewing machine and try to remember how to thread it, so I persevered.

And when I was done, lo and behold, I had a perfectly passable Renaissance muffin hat. Maybe the tufted terry cloth fabric isn't exactly period, but the shape is generally right (kind of like a shorter version of a chef's toque), and I doubt even the toughest period-apparel snob will raise an eyebrow at it. 

The entire project cost me nothing, since I used fabric I was just going to discard anyway. Brian's whole homemade outfit still clocks in at under twenty bucks: $1 for the thrift-shop shirt, $5 for the yard-sale shoes, and $13 (including shipping) for the new pair of sweat pants we had to order. And best of all, I now know that I can in fact make an entire garment — at least a small one — with my very own hands.

Which may come in handy, since if the Delta variant is still raging across Pennsylvania at the end of September, I'll probably need to figure out some way to make a face mask look period-appropriate, too (vaccine or no vaccine).