What doesn't kill your friends, makes you a good hostess

We're having friends over Saturday night for sushi. They're getting a babysitter; we're putting H-man to bed at 8 p.m. We're opening a bottle (or two?) of wine. And we're spending a grown-up evening chopping and rolling and Wasabi-ing. One of my very most favorite evening activities.

I have a slight hesitation. My concern: we usually stick with the sushi ingredients that are cooked. Shellfish. Smoked Salmon. Sometimes just a lot of rice and veggies rolled up in a bed of sticky rice and artfully sliced. It's not that I'm afraid of raw fish, in theory. It's just that we live in Iowa. No bodies of salt water for, say, thousands of miles in any direction. I'm not even afraid of potentially questionable raw fish -- as long as my husband and I are the only ones partaking. I'm sure it's just my neuroses talking, but I envision a dire situation: our guests, an ambulance, stomach pumping, voluminous vomiting, permanent gastrointestinal damage...and so on and so forth. In no uncertain terms, I'd say that that dinner party scenario would prompt Martha Stewart to declare, "Um...not such a good thing."

But because we invited our friends for sushi, we figured we should really try to be as authentic as possible. If they're going to be poisoned, by God, they're going to get the real deal. Spicy tuna roll all the way, baby.

So I called the local food co-op (a homespun version of Whole Foods) this morning to inquire and went down to pick up a package of what they've dubbed "sashimi-grade yellowfin tuna." Sashimi, for all you 'Muricans out there, is a variety of sushi. It might have been my first clue that I am stepping into murky, salmonella-infested waters: the package was FROZEN. Hmmm. Frozen raw fish. Thaw and eat. Do you find anything at all appetizing about this so far? I was concerned enough about what I was buying to snag a fellow wearing an apron and name badge to ask if this was, indeed, the right stuff. I believe what I said to him was, "Hey, Joe, is this the sushi-grade tuna?" And then added, "You know. The stuff I can eat raw." And then added, "And it won't make me sick."

And Joe looked at me like I sprouted two heads, looked back at the package, and said, "Oooh. I don't think so."

He then consulted with another guy in an apron, and they, after several minutes of banter back and forth (during which, they were passing the package of frozen fish back and forth in their very, very humanly warm -- 98.6 degrees, I say -- hands), decide to consult a third party.

That third person, the one behind the meat counter, has an entirely different response. "Oh, yes, absolutely, that's the sushi tuna. Just leave it in the fridge for a day or so and it'll be ready to slice."

The first fellow, Joe, then hands me the package of fish, which had little melted fingerprints dotting the freezer frosted plastic. "Well there you go," he says, looking all pleased with himself for being of such great help. "Sushi tuna."

I bought the tuna. (I did swap the package they'd been manhandling for a more thoroughly frozen one.)

How do you say "Call 911" in Japanese?