Dating Mr. Carrot Part 2

Half veggie and half Portabello mushroom and goat cheese

If you’re just joining me on my Mr. Carrot adventure, let me give you a quick round-up: Had a crush on a guy who looked like Moses (post “Let My People Go”). Mr. Carrot owns a Seven Day Adventist vegan restaurant in the hood. He’s a bit of a carrot-fascist, but he has a beautiful heart. I’m no vegan. I’m food-agnostic. I swing from seitan to steak, but I really wanted to impress Mr. Carrot, so I threw myself into that whimsical world of dried seaweed snacks and astronomically-priced wheat grass shots. He invited me on a date to Andiamo’s—my favorite pizza joint in Miami and then things took a turn for the weird. He had a mini tantrum about the pizza cutter that had been infected with cheese particles. He professed his distaste for wine, and he didn’t know any of the lyrics to Frankie Beverly & Maze’s “Before I Let Go,” which we heard through the patio speakers. We ordered the Ratatouille, a large pie topped with eggplant, zucchini, roasted red, green and orange peppers, caramelized onions, and tomato sauce. Hold the mozzarella and Portobello mushrooms (sigh). The pizza was so pristine, it looked like it belonged in a museum. And it was absolutely delicious, all those fresh ingredients romping around my mouth like naked people going skinny dipping for the first time. But we needed wine. Chianti or a Super Tuscan, perhaps? As I sat there gobbling away, I realized that Mr. Carrot and I had limited romantic prospects. He was way too strict, and he started to fall asleep at the table. I’m serious. He started nodding off. I thought his dredlocks were going to fall into the pie. Turns out he’s narcoleptic. I wanted to shout, “Brother, have a steak!” But that would have changed the mood.       

Andiamo Bricken Oven Pizza, 5600 Biscayne Blvd., 305-762-5751.