Before I got schooled, I assumed granite arrived from overseas as sheets, and only the fabricating was done here. But no, it’s quarried and shipped as giant blocks. Loaves, to use the industry term. They slice it up on this giant machine right here in the Valley.
The things you learn when doing the kitchen.
After my physical exertions, to anticapte the topping of the cake prized from the earth in such a brute manner gave me pleasure.
Here’s something else you learn.
Sniffing around a granite yard looking for a pattern known as green rose, I was confronted by a lugubrious man with a baroque Mediterranean accent who popped out from between two loaves of granite, like the Lorax.
Man: May I help you sir!
Man: How may I help you?
Me: I’m looking for a green rose pattern.
He marched me into the showroom and pointed to the slab you see here.
Man: Here is green.
I looked around like an idiot, thinking he must be pointing elsewhere.
Me: You’re saying this is green?
Man: Is green.
Man: IS green. Look around the room if you don’t believe me. You tell me which one is green.
I showed him a picture of what I was looking for on my phone.
Man: You’ll never find that, sir. No one has that. What I have is as close to what you’re looking for in the entire city, and I know all the inventory.
And that was the beginning of our quest through the stone yards of the Valley.