BERLIN — Morning light pours into Luisa Weiss’s kitchen in the Wilmersdorf section of Berlin. She just sent in the final edits on “Classic German Baking,” her new cookbook, an encyclopedic survey of confections and breads from all over the country.

Weiss, an American, started life in Berlin with her parents. When her American father and Italian mother divorced, 3-year-old Luisa moved to Boston with her dad, and a life of shuttling back and forth across the ocean began. Food played a prominent role in the high and low moments of her trans-Atlantic existence. “My Berlin Kitchen” is her poignant and delicious memoir, which I wrote about for the Globe in 2012, and Weiss is well known for her blog, The Wednesday Chef. She is a global citizen who speaks four languages and has lived in Boston, Berlin, France, and Italy. Weiss describes her new book as a “love letter to Berlin.” Evocative photos of the city’s architecture, famous graffiti, and street scenes are among the recipes for lebkuchen (German gingerbread) and brezeln (soft pretzels). She speaks about “Classic German Baking” Oct. 30 at the Goethe-Institut, a sold-out event.

German food and baking are familiar to Americans. In the 19th century, Germans were one of this country’s largest immigrant populations. Weiss explains they brought fruited stollen; Christmas cookies; gugelhupf, the turban-shaped cake; and refined cakes like the Sacher Torte from Austria. “Baking is my first love. I started as a kid. I liked the precision,” says Weiss, who is aware that Americans love their measuring cups and spoons but insists on weighing ingredients for greater accuracy and ease.

You will find both styles of measurements in the book, but “the scale is a workhorse.” To demonstrate, she sets her saucepan on the scale, bringing it to tare weight (0) and adding each ingredient doing arithmetic along the way: 190 grams sliced almonds + 95 grams honey + 130 grams of butter. Today she is baking Bienenstich (“bee sting”), a honey-almond caramel cake.

Weiss deftly rolls out the yeasted dough on a parchment paper rectangle. The caramel bubbles; she spreads it over the dough and bakes it until the topping is tawny and crunchy.

Stand-alone bakeries and those in supermarkets have cases filled with cakes in deep-sided metal rectangular pans. Many have a cakey-crusty bottom, a layer of jam or fruit, and a streusel topping. “I am on a personal quest to teach Americans how to correctly pronounce streusel” — “stroy-sel” — Weiss says. The word comes from the German “streuen,” which means to strew, she instructs as she corrects me.

Cake is for the afternoon, says Weiss. “It’s its own meal designation — kaffeezeit, coffee time, around 3 p.m.” This explains a few things about German life. It seems work ceases, midafternoon, as folks find a cafe for a proper slice of cake and a coffee. It lies somewhere between knocking back an espresso and a siesta, and it is a very pleasant regenerative pause.

Weiss’s Wednesday Chef is now 11 years old. She put out a call for recipe testers to the blog’s followers, and many were eager to help. It is important that the recipes work with ingredients available in the United States, and Weiss faced some challenges: European butter has a higher fat content, there is little to no salt in traditional German recipes (she added salt to all of them), and German baking powder is single acting (which reacts with heat) while American is double-acting (reacting with moisture and heat). She is particularly proud of mastering strudel dough, which she calls the “Mount Everest of baking.”

Roggenbrotchen (rye rolls) aren’t the only buns in the oven. Son Hugo is set to become a big brother. After Weiss’s American book tour, she will return to Berlin, hopefully put her feet up, and indulge in kaffeezeit