Don’t say Betty’s tastes aren’t eclectic. In my last review, I told the tale of mouth-scorching firecracker chicken; for this visit to the lunch counter, I’m taking a trip to the Orient — via Second Street in Harrisburg, of course, at Tokyo Express.

Bamboo blinds on the windows, subtle music playing in the background — I think it was classical, maybe even Bach or Chopin — with a bright, welcoming décor, Tokyo Express is a fine example of the establishments located on what people now called the city’s "restaurant row". As soon as you enter, you are met with a ten-seat sushi bar, manned by two chefs in traditional dress, complete with sashed robes and rolled headbands. A nice touch, if I do say so myself. Proficient and precise, the chefs were busy slicing who knows what and maneuvering it in a number of twists and turns until it was transformed into a beautiful piece of food/art on a butcher block, ready to eat. Not a regular sushi-goer, I was amazed by the talent and the presentation. But not so much so that I was afraid to eat it. I was hungry — I was ready to place my order and bite into the ‘art’!

While placing my order with the waitress, I asked for her suggestion. Since I was open to anything, I complied with her answer: sushi and sashimi ($10.50). Served with a choice of miso soup or house salad, I chose the salad, and, boy, was I delighted. Not that the miso soup is a poor choice, readers, as I have tasted it before and it is delicious, it’s just that the salad’s ginger dressing is honestly that good. I can taste it even now!

For drinks, I opted for hot green tea and water, which, I must say, were always filled, keeping them hot and cold, respectively. And a helpful hint from Betty — get the hot tea, trust me, you’ll need it. I’ll explain later!

Seated at a table in the moderate sized dining room with beautiful vaulted ceilings, and surrounded by a few stragglers from the later lunch crowds, I barely had to wait until my appetizer arrived. To start the meal, I ordered crispy vegetable rolls ($1.25 each) and they were fantastic. Much easier to handle than those huge rolled-up-newspaper-sized egg rolls I’ve seen at many take-out restaurants, these rolls were just as ample and every bit as flavorful. And they were accompanied by the cutest dipping bowl Betty has ever seen, full of perfectly sweet duck sauce.

Before I was even able to finish my crispy roll, I spotted the lovely waitress, Tina, heading toward my table, nearly wobbling under the weight of my entrée. It was honestly that big. The plate was literally 14" across and filled with beautifully colored chunks of meat and rice rolls. Taking up most of the plate were the sashimi: huge chunks of fish, uncooked and laying atop a bed of deep green, jagged-edged lettuce leaves. Yellow tail, tuna, and salmon were cut into thick squares and separated into neat, individual pilings.

On one side of the sizeable sashimi slabs were four gently-rounded humps of sushi: steamed rice draped and shaped with a small strip of bright orange salmon, deep red tuna, sweet white fluke, and moist yellow tail. There was so much fish on my plate I thought I should’ve been sporting fins and scales myself. And, surprisingly enough, there was not a hint of that fish smell that has a tendency to hang in the air. All I smelled was the waft of good food!

On the other side of the sashimi, a California roll was sliced into six identical, quarter-sized cylinders. Placed on their sides to expose their delicate cross-section of vegetable and seafood, the rolls were ample, and almost too beautiful to eat! Betty had gone to a new land where food and art had become a single thing.

A precious, rectangular mixing bowl was brought over for Betty to combine the condiments for the lunch: slices of pickled ginger, soy sauce, of course, and a ground-up Japanese radish called wasabi. Now for those of you who have never had wasabi, pay heed to Betty: go gently into that green stuff! Whoo-weee! Tina, the dear, gave me a little warning, but she should have cordoned off the wasabi with the yellow tape that they use at catastrophe scenes.

If you have a tender palate, dear reader, avoid the wasabi altogether. If you’re nervous but willing, fill the bowl with soy sauce, slide two little pink ginger slices in, and pinch off a teeny-tiny piece of wasabi. Mix it up very well with a chopstick, being sure to thoroughly breakup the wasabi paste. Take a sushi piece and place into the mixture. Pull a marinated slice of ginger out and lay it on top of the sushi. After a minute, grab the sushi with those difficult chopsticks, and away it goes into your gullet! Oh, so scrumptious.

After a moment, you’ll feel a minty, cool sensation that turns quickly into a burn, escaping through the nose. Tears will well up, but it’s worth it. If you can take that, add a bit more with each dunking. Betty guarantees you a moment where you feel like you went too far. You will reach for your ice water, but this is a mistake! Here is where you will need your hot green tea. It mysteriously cancels out the intensifying burn of the wasabi immediately. It saved Betty’s poor tongue many times.