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grade, he could read. “That’s dog food , Sash.” He giggled, but took a handful, too.
    The egg-shaped man behind the counter was talking to Mom in a low grumble. She looked upset as she waved her hand over her selections: chocolate, eggs, almonds from the bulk bin, and a tin of almond paste. There was also an avocado. Mom promised we could split it for lunch. But our car had broken down again, and we had walked two miles from our apartment to the health food store. I was hungry now .
    The man’s voice grew loud. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t change the rules. We don’t take food stamps.”
    Mom glanced over at Michael and me, straightened her small shoulders and knit her eyebrows together.
    Michael marched to her side. “Come on, Mom, we don’t need his stupid food,” he said taking her hand, and scowling up at the clerk.
    Mom tucked the food stamps back into a fold of her coat. She counted out a few coins from her change purse, looked the man squarely in the eyes, and placed them on the counter with a sharp click .
    She managed our avocado lunch, but it would be another few weeks before she could hem enough trousers to buy the ingredients for the German Tree Cake. We begged her to go to a different grocery store, one of the many chains near our apartment where she could use her food stamps. But she said we deserved to shop at the health food store just like anyone else.
    Mom saved her money, and when we left the store the second time, we had what we needed. After a painstaking morning spent broiling the 21 almond layers and another afternoon glazing it, the first bite was nowhere as good as I expected.
    It was better.
German Tree Cake | Baumtorte/Baumkuchen
This is the kind of cake that pulls family together around the stove, incites gasps when sliced, and tastes like escape. The stacked almond cake looks like the rings of an ancient tree, whose secrets hide under chocolate and crushed almond bark. Golden apricot jam drips like sap .
There’s no denying it—this cake is a lot of work. German bakeries resort to a rotating spit to “paint on” nearly two dozen layers. Mom knew the best way to tackle it is over two days: one for baking, another for decorating. While the layers broil, I set a timer and make a game of cleaning in bursts. By the time the last layer browns, the kitchen sparkles .
For the batter:
14 ounces almond paste (a tightly packed 1⅓ cups)
6 tablespoons half-and-half
12 tablespoons (1½ sticks) unsalted butter, softened, plus more for cake pan
1 cup sugar
10 large eggs, separated (put the whites in a large bowl)
1½ teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup cake flour
¾ cup cornstarch
¼ teaspoon salt
For assembly:
Apricot jam (about a 10-ounce jar)
Slivered almonds (1 cup or so, coarsely ground)
For the chocolate glaze:
6 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon dark rum
1½ teaspoons vanilla extract
2 tablespoons light corn syrup
6 ounces semisweet chocolate chips (1 cup)
Grease and line a 9-inch springform pan with a round of parchment paper.
For the batter:
In the bowl of a standing mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the almond paste with half-and-half, one tablespoon at a time. Start the mixer on low, then increase to medium until smooth. Beat in the softened butter until the mixture is fluffy, then beat in the sugar. Scrape the bowl as needed. Incorporate the egg yolks—one at a time—and the vanilla extract. (At this point, I dab a little vanilla extract on my wrists, just like mom.)
In a medium bowl, whisk together the cake flour, cornstarch, and salt. Beat it into the batter in thirds on lowest speed, scraping the bowl as needed. Finally, use a hand mixer to beat the egg whites in a large bowl until they form medium peaks. Fold the egg whites into the batter in thirds, until it looks like an almond paste cloud.
To bake the cake:
Preheat the broiler for a few minutes.
To make the layers, use a ⅓ cup measuring spoon to scoop a heaping mound of batter into the prepared springform pan.