Family trees, those diagrams that build individual names into multigenerational sculptures, don't look like much at a glance. Yet the spindly formations command presence for what they represent. There's mana implied in those branches as they weave each singular story into a larger tale.

Depending on the family, the tale bears different significance. The rare tree illustrates royal bloodlines; others indicate a family exceptional for specific contributions. Think the Kanakaoles of hula and Hawaiian music, or the Kennedys of American politics.

Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan's family tree is imbued with the succulence of traditional Singapore braised duck and the heartiness of an array of noodle dishes. The tie that binds her tree is cooking.

Tan is a New York writer currently traveling and researching her upcoming book, “;A Tiger in the Kitchen,”; a food memoir scheduled to be published in 2011 by Hyperion. A blog of the same name chronicles her travels and food adventures along the way.

Tan's focus is on the matriarchs of both her parents' families and, most recently, on her newest branch, which links her to a new mother by marriage.

“;I call what I do cultural anthropology,”; Tan says. “;I've always wanted to learn to cook from my family. My (paternal) grandma was the legendary cook in my family. She passed away, and I'm trying to learn the things she taught to my aunt to keep the legacy going.

“;Lots of recipes would die off if they aren't written down. Most people nowadays don't have time to sit and learn recipes from their grandmothers, so they need to be documented so future generations can have them in hand.”;

While the fiber of Tan's memoir will be cooking and recipes, it's the familial talk-story that adds resonance to those concrete entities. The book will “;chronicle a journey about learning about my family through cooking,”; she says.

EARLIER THIS YEAR, for instance, Tan returned to her native Singapore to learn to make Chinese New Year cookies.

“;I realize that it's there in the kitchen, while you're waiting for something to steam, that they will inevitably tell you stories,”; she says. “;I'm learning the history of my family, of the strength of the women in my family.

“;My grandma on my dad's side woke up at 4 a.m. every day just to make a great breakfast, because she loved her family and wanted to feed them.”;

During the same trip, Tan also visited a friend's mother, who demonstrated her recipe for “;ayam sha merah,”; a Malay spicy red chicken dish.

“;I went with some other friends to learn from her mom, and we sat down to lunch. Her mom told this great story of how she met her friend's dad, and how she wooed him with her cooking! My friend learned this about her parents for the first time. It was a great romantic story.”;

That kind of kitchen talk, universal between generations of women in families of all cultures, isn't easy to come by anymore, Tan says.

“;We're too busy and the distances are too great. Even at Christmas or Thanksgiving, we often find ourselves glued to the Blackberry. But we're losing out on the bonding experience of the kitchen.”;

A few months ago, Tan was in Honolulu learning Korean recipes from her mother-in-law, Ai-kyung Linster. On the to-do list were mandoo and kalbi.

Tan says learning from someone outside her own family is “;a totally different experience. You go from being a guest to a participant. Living so far away, you get special treatment. But this way, you get to play a more active role by helping to put food on the table.

“;You're part of the group.”;

“;A Tiger in the Kitchen”; brings to the forefront Tan's long-standing “;personal passions: cooking and eating.”; The food-related hobbies weren't exactly aligned with her previous job as a fashion reporter for The Wall Street Journal.

“;In fashion nobody eats,”; she quips.

Tan had been pondering the idea of a food memoir, and was considering taking a year's leave from work, when the newspaper announced plans to eliminate its fashion bureau. If timing means anything, the project is serendipitous.

“;I was sad for a moment, then I thought of the book. I gave myself a month to sell the book and found an agent. We had six or seven interested publishers ... and by the time I left the paper, we were on the way to a contract. It was seamless, really.”;

Tan's still not sure how she'll construct “;A Tiger in the Kitchen,”; but “;I was a newspaper reporter - I'm used to deadlines and writing a lot of copy in a short period of time.”;

As for the blog, “;I was traveling for the book, and I was gathering great information that I couldn't include. I launched it so people could follow me along,”; she says. “;It's a lot of fun. I feel like the readers feel like they're part of the journey, too. It's nice to have them cheering me along.

“;But there's pressure, too. Now I feel like the book's gotta be good.”;

———

Savory family recipe

Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan shares a family recipe for Teochew duck, passed on to her by her maternal aunt. (Teochew is a Chinese dialect, and Teochew cuisine has influenced that of Singapore.)

AUNTY ALICE'S TEOCHEW BRAISED DUCK

1 whole duck
2 level Chinese soup spoons (each is about 1-1/2 to 2 tablespoons) five spice powder
2 level Chinese soup spoons salt
2 level Chinese soup spoons sugar
10 to 15 thick slices peeled galangal (ginger can be substituted)
15 cloves garlic, peeled and lightly crushed
1 Chinese rice bowl (slightly more than 1 cup) dark soy sauce*, or to taste

Trim duck: cut off head, tail, nails and feet. (Reserve feet if planning to use in another dish.) Wash thoroughly inside and out.

Mix together five spice powder and salt, and rub all over outside and inside of duck. Transfer to refrigerator and marinate for at least two hours.

Heat large wok over low heat and add sugar, stirring until it melts. Add galangal or ginger and garlic, frying mixture until browned. Add dark soy sauce.

Lightly rinse duck, then slide into wok then coat top of duck with gravy and turn over. Add enough water so liquid comes up to halfway along side of duck. Bring mixture to boil. Reduce to a simmer and cover.

Turn duck every 15 minutes and cover again. After 50 minutes to an hour, test for doneness with chopstick: If chopstick can pass through fleshiest part of duck fairly easily, it is ready.

When duck is cooked, turn off heat and let it sit, covered, for 10 minutes. Then, slice and serve with rice, with sauce on side. Serves 4 to 6.

*Note: Find dark soy sauce in the Oriental food section of most markets, or in Chinatown.

Approximate nutritional analysis, per serving (based on six servings and not including rice): 930 calories, 85 g total fat, 28 g saturated fat, 160 mg cholesterol, greater than 7000 mg sodium, 18 g carbohydrate, 1 g fiber, 8 g sugar, 25 g protein

Savory fish dish is steamed in leaf

Otah, also known as otak or otak-otak, is a spicy mousse usually made with mackerel that is wrapped in banana leaves and steamed or grilled.

“;It can be eaten on its own, mashed into rice or slathered onto bread for a savory lunch or breakfast,”; says Cheryl Tan, who shares this family recipe.

OTAH

2 to 3 thick stalks lemongrass
2-1/4 pounds shallots
3-1/2 tablespoons galangal
3-1/2 tablespoons fresh ginger or turmeric
2 tablespoons toasted, crumbled belacan (fermented, ground dried shrimp)
3-1/2 tablespoons candlenuts (macadamia nuts can be substituted)
6-1/2 tablespoons dried chilis, boiled in hot water for 15 minutes to soften
12 chili padi (also known as bird's eye chilis), or to taste
3/4 tablespoon plus 3/4 teaspoon of salt
1-1/4 cup vegetable or canola oil
2-1/4 pounds mackerel
3-1/2 cups coconut milk
8 eggs, beaten
1-1/2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons ground coriander
2 tablespoons tapioca flour
1/4 teaspoon monosodium glutamate
Fresh banana leaves*, cut into eight-inch-by-five-inch rectangles
Sharp toothpicks

Thinly slice lemongrass, shallots, galangal and turmeric. Blend together in food processor with crumbled belacan and candlenuts. Remove paste and transfer large wok. Fry over medium heat.

Blend together softened, dried chilis and chili padi in food processor with about 1/4 cup of water. Add chili mixture to the paste you're frying up in the wok. Add 3/4 tablespoon of salt.

Keep frying the paste—after half an hour, start gradually adding oil to the mixture while frying. You want the mixture to get really dry. The best way to tell whether there's still water in the paste is to add oil by the 1/4 cup and then inspect the oil to see if white wispy strands appear. If you see the wisps, there's still water in the mixture.

About an hour and a half later, the paste should be dry enough. Remove from wok and let it cool overnight.

The next day, fill a large wok with water and bring it to a boil. Soak the banana leaf rectangles in batches in the water for about a minute or two to soften the leaves. You want them to be pliant enough to be folded with ease.

Cut up the fish into smaller-than-bite-size pieces. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together four to five cups of the chili paste (add more if you like it spicy), coconut milk, eggs, sugar, coriander, tapioca flour, monosodium glutamate, and 3/4 teaspoon of salt. Add fish to the bowl and mix it up well.

Take a banana leaf, position it on your hand so its veins are vertical, then scoop two to three tablespoons of the fish mixture onto the leaf so it forms a slender vertical strip along the middle. Make sure that the paste does not reach the ends of the leaf—you don't want it to spill out.

Fold over the left side of the leaf and then the right side of the leaf so you have a long, slender otah that's about an inch and a half in width. Secure the top and bottom of the strip with toothpicks. Repeat with the rest of the mixture.

Steam otah for 10 minutes and serve it with rice or bread. Yields 80 otah.

*Note: If you can't find fresh banana leaves, scoop paste into bowl and steam.

Approximate nutritional analysis, per otah: 120 calories, 7 total g fat, 2.5 g saturated fat, 30 mg cholesterol, 80 mg sodium, 12 g carbohydrate, 0 g fiber, 9 g sugar, 4 g protein