The uranium content of granite has always been somewhat in our radar since we moved to Ireland, since there’s a lot of granite in Wicklow; and where there’s granite, because of the decay of the tiny amounts of uranium it often contains, sometimes there’s radon as well. But here’s a side effect I hadn’t given that much thought to.
As the popularity of granite countertops has grown in the last decade — demand for them has increased tenfold, according to the Marble Institute of America, a trade group representing granite fabricators — so have the types of granite available. For example, one source, Graniteland (graniteland.com) offers more than 900 kinds of granite from 63 countries. And with increased sales volume and variety, there have been more reports of [radioactive] or potentially hazardous countertops, particularly among the more exotic and striated varieties from Brazil and Namibia.
“It’s not that all granite is dangerous,” said Stanley Liebert, the quality assurance director at CMT Laboratories in Clifton Park, N.Y., who took radiation measurements at Dr. Sugarman’s house. “But I’ve seen a few that might heat up your Cheerios a little.”
Eek. I do not want my Cheerios heated up. Not even slightly!
One more thing to think about for when we redo the kitchen…
I mentioned this place in passing in a post some while back, and it really needs to have something more said about it, as there’s not nearly enough information online.
The cafe itself is a splendid den of perfectly preserved Art Nouveau: stained glass, ornamental brass, carved wood and marble-topped, iron-legged tables, with toilet facilities that are also gorgeously antique. Some of the wall hangings or tapestries are a little faded, the old mirrors a touch spotty: no one cares. The pace is leisurely. The music is — if not exactly 1890’s — also of an earlier time, more likely to be Piaf if anything else. People sit, have a coffee, drink, read their newspapers, chat, have a sandwich, gaze out the windows at the old Bourse building outside.
At quiet times, Minou appears to check the spaces underneath the tables and see if anyone’s dropped anything nice. She is not one of those in-your-face, demonstrative cats: she is willing to be friendly if you feel like paying attention to her, but otherwise entirely willing to let you be. On a cold day, she’ll jump up behind the espresso machine again to take advantage of the uninterrupted view out the window. It’s all very sedate, just a short walk away from the noise and expense and tourist-trampling of the Grand Place.
