My sister Judy is completely tone deaf. She honestly cannot tell one note from another. Her CD changer, programmed by her husband, always has the same five classical recordings in it. When you ask her what’s playing, she answers “Number three.” Years of piano lessons were wasted on her. We don’t let her sing. She couldn’t carry a tune in a backpack.

Which is why my parents were puzzled one year when she asked for a musical instrument for her birthday. They thought it was absurd, but they wanted to be supportive. Who knew? Perhaps she had discovered some hitherto unknown talent.

I called one day, and found them busy researching music stores, looking for a mandolin. They both got on the line at the same time. “What is she thinking?” they chorused. “And why would she pick such an odd instrument? Do you think she’d rather have a guitar?”

If you cook, you know the punchline. What my sister hoped to receive was a mandoline. Not a mandolin, which is a short-necked eight-stringed lute of little use in the kitchen and even less use to the woman voted most likely to never appear on Star Search. A mandoline, on the other hand, is a guillotine-like gadget for slicing vegetables.

Judy got her birthday present, and my parents breathed a quiet sigh of relief that they would not have to attend any more recitals.

In the hands of a master, a mandoline is an amazing tool. Francois, my French cooking instructor, was awe-inspiring. His fingers flew over the blade as he deftly turned out waffle-cut potatoes, perfect julienned carrots, and paper-thin slices of beets. It made for great theater. It also looked dangerous, adding that little extra frisson of excitement that ordinary vegetable cooking can sometimes lack.

The blade is murderous, and this machine can sense fear. If you approach it tentatively, it will find a way to cut you. It also punishes cockiness and momentary lapses of attention. I doubt there is a chef around who hasn’t sacrificed a fingertip to it somewhere along the line.

But oh those beautiful slices! As Francois often said (imagine this in a French accent, it sounds much more authoritative), “In vegetables, texture is everything!” Try it and you’ll discover he is right. Vegetables like carrots, turnips and beets seem to take on different characteristics depending on whether they are sliced, cubed, whole or julienned. The mandoline makes for beautiful music in your mouth.

Judy settled for a friendly-looking Japanese home version, complete with safety shields and a little plastic handle you can stab into the vegetable to protect your fingers. She’s gotten pretty good with it. Dad, on the other hand, wishes they’d bought her a ukulele. He needed three stitches in the emergency room the last time he assisted.

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What follows is more a technique than a recipe — sauté-steaming — that is almost too easy to require an explanation. The only hard part is that each of the vegetables needs to be cooked separately. As simple as it is, the combination of colors makes this dish festive and special. It’s been a hit for me at several dinner parties. All measurements and ingredients are approximate, so feel free to experiment and adjust things to taste.

Confetti Vegetables

1-2 red beets

1-2 tsp. vinegar

1-2 turnips

3-4 carrots

1-2 zucchini

3-6 Tbsp. butter

High quality chicken stock (preferably homemade)

Salt and pepper

Sterile gauze bandages

Peel the vegetables (except the zucchini, where you want the dark green skin) and use the fine julienne blade of the mandoline to cut each of them into shreds. Mix the carrots and turnips together, but keep the beets and zucchini each separate.

In a sauté pan over medium heat, melt a tablespoon or two of butter, and add the beets. Add the vinegar, and cook, stirring. The beets will give off a little moisture, but as they start to get dry, drizzle in a little chicken stock. Continue to cook, stirring occasionally and adding chicken stock as necessary to keep the dish moist and steaming, until beets are done, 12-15 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste. Set aside and keep warm.

In another sauté pan (or wash the beet pan and reuse it — the important thing is you don’t want the beet juice to stain the other vegetables), repeat the process with the carrots and turnips. They will cook faster than the beets — in 5-6 minutes. The carrots will turn the turnips a pretty yellow color. Set aside and keep warm, and repeat with the zucchini, which will cook fastest of all — 2-3 minutes — and will be a pretty green color.

Placing the beets in the center, arrange the vegetables in concentric circles in a large shallow serving bowl. Serve with tongs and try not to mix the vegetables too much in the bowl, in order to keep the beets from turning everything pink.

Use the hand guard on the mandoline, and you won’t need the bandages.