Arriving: Stardust has always hit me as a casual, beat-up, "screw you and your pretensions" joint which is in itself a kind of low-level pretension. The video side of the shop carries all the stuff (except porn) that the chain video places don't. The restaurant/art gallery/stage side is couches and unmatched tables and chairs. The worn-out high school science class table is a personal fave. Background music is glitchy acoustic ambient mixed with the occasional bit of chick folk.
Scoping: An admission: I've always been a little intimidated by the hipsters who hang out in front of Stardust with their exotic microbrews and generic cigarettes. Inside, the Saturday lunch crowd was me, two guys tapping away on laptops and a third writer alternating napping and attacking his notebook with his ballpoint. Stardust is the first place I've ever reviewed while openly taking notes at the table. I blended with all the other scribblers.
Drinking: No hard liquor at Stardust, just a few bottles of wine and a glass-doored cooler of beers. A few American lagers sit on the bottom rack, but it's mostly a mix of microbrews and imports. Brazil's Palma Louca ($3.73 before tax) is crisp and Stella-ish. At first, I was going to say it had no aftertaste, but I've decided it was just lacking in taste, period.
Grozet, from Scotland, ($4.26) is a better choice. Brewed with wheat and gooseberries, it's not heavy or sweet like you'd expect after tasting other cough-syrup fruit beers out there. Malty but light, Grozet won't enter the regular rotation of beers in my glass, but it was worth the experiment.
Chewing: The menu is mostly sandwiches and salads. The Rob Reiner panini ($7.50) is meatloaf (Reiner was "Meathead," get it?) with barbecue sauce and cheese. Full of filling on crispy bread, my only gripe is that there's no "loaf." The loose meat sandwich is closer to a sloppy Joe melt. A big mound of salad greens covers half the plate. You better like homemade balsamic vinegar and olive oil, because that's the only dressing you're going to get.
Another panini, the Orba Zorba ($7.50), is filled with chicken, feta, hummus and peppers. It's another winner; my favorite of the items I tried with different textures and flavors coming to the top with each nibble.
Stardust has several vegetarian options. The Nameless DJ quesadilla ($7.50) can be made with pork, chicken or tempeh (a pressed cake of soybeans and grains). I'm not a vegetarian, but I can still appreciate a good black bean enchilada. This mock meat quesadilla was just as bland as can be. The cook didn't skimp on the cheese, but I needed all my salsa and sour cream to make it taste like anything.
By the way, the waffle on the menu is called Rhodehamel ($2.50) because its namesake, the local paper bag mushroom artist, adores them. He also made the sign for waffles that hangs over the counter. I know all this because Doug Rhodehamel happened to be in line behind me and I asked him.
Going: The unisex bathroom is over on the video store side. A lot of dirty fingerprints and a ragged hole in the sink, but it smells clean. Don't bother trying to pry open the painted-over window. The view is just cinderblock from the building next door.
Departing: Name another place in Orlando where you can get a funky beer, a crunchy sandwich and a documentary about porn stars and their pets. Can't do it, can you?
