It was Kathrin’s niece who told her about Vollpension. The 68-year-old applied for a job as a baker and was hired at the cafe in Vienna, Austria, in 2017. Eight years later, Kathrin is still baking at Vollpension following her mother-in-law’s recipes, churning out treats like banana cream cake. She loves to experiment too, and finds a lot of inspiration on Pinterest for items like vegan brownies.

Kathrin is a former nurse with children and grandchildren, and you might expect her to be slowing down. But even she’s surprised “how much fun work can be, even at my age,” she says. Kathrin has made friends during her time at Vollpension, including Margit (“People call us the twins”), and she’s found a lot to love about working at the cafe. One of her biggest surprises since joining the staff is that “there are so many grandfathers who are great bakers.”

Vollpension is an intergenerational cafe where half of the employees are senior citizens, mostly omas and opas (German grandmas and grandpas) who bake sweets from their own recipes. The cafe’s notable alumni include oma Beata, a mother of five known for her buchteln (fluffy buns stuffed with plum jam and doused in vanilla sauce), who spontaneously traveled around the world in her mid-50s; oma Christine, an expert at vegan cakes who worked for many years as an actress; and oma Charlotte, who gained acclaim for her elegant Sacher torte (glazed chocolate-apricot cake) and once saw a member of the Rolling Stones naked while she was working at a hotel.

“Our omas and opas are the stars, baking traditional cakes right in front of guests,” says co-founder Moriz Piffl-Percevic. “To get your slice, you pick it up directly from them, chat, and get their advice. That’s part of the experience.”

Even if your grandparents aren’t from Vienna, walking into the cafe is like wandering into a rosy memory of your grandparent’s living room. The exposed brick walls are covered with kitschy decorations: a large oval portrait of a woman in Victorian dress, about a dozen images of dogs, a tapestry depicting a gathering of deer. Porcelain animals — a pug, a cocker spaniel, a pair of parrots — crowd a windowsill. The secondhand furniture is all mismatched: couches in pink, yellow, blue, and white floral patterns, laminated wood tables, and old-fashioned classroom chairs. There are plenty of doilies.

When I visited in late August, I sat on a lumpy armchair, an oversized ceramic cat at my knee, and perused the food options. There are set menus for breakfast and brunch (cheese and meat platters), afternoon snacks (grilled cheese), and a bar (schnapps, beer, lemonade). But the highlight is clearly the rotating selection of baked goods. My options that day were a dense flourless poppy-nut cake with apricots; a chocolate and egg-liqueur cake with Maraschino cherries dotting the top; and a carrot cake with thick, luxurious layers of icing.

The idea for Vollpension was born in 2012 when Piffl-Percevic ate a piece of dry cake in a Viennese coffee house. Dismayed and nostalgic for the much tastier cakes he remembered from childhood, he began a journey to, as he says, “bring the feeling of grandma’s cake back to Vienna.” After experimenting with pop-ups featuring his grandmother, Mutter Mayr, and touring Austria in an old Volkswagen bus, the cafe found a permanent home in one of Vienna’s central districts in 2015.

The idea has resonated with any local or visitor who has been disappointed by a Vienna bakery, especially over interpretations of famed local sweets like the iconic Sacher torte. Visitors make it a point to try the cake, Vienna’s calling card in the world of desserts, at one of the city’s well-known coffee shops, especially the five-star Hotel Sacher; but in my experience, the one at Sacher is dry and overpriced (an opinion I share with the late Anthony Bourdain, who visited on Season 6 of No Reservations).

At Vollpension, the Sacher torte is moister and a good deal more affordable. “Johannes makes the best Sacher torte I’ve ever tasted,” Kathrin says of one of her colleagues. Though there’s always a long line of tourists outside Hotel Sacher, selfie sticks at the ready, some visitors find their way to Vollpension. In 2019, the cafe expanded to a second location in the First District, where many of Vienna’s tourist sights are, and now it has its eyes on a third, either in Salzburg or Graz.

“Places like this are good for getting to know people,” says Sofia, who is at the cafe with her partner, Lucas, and her mother, Loreta. They’re from Chile, and it’s Loreta’s first time at Vollpension, but Sofia has been before, during her last visit to Vienna.

“She told me we must go to the grandmothers,” Loreta says with a nod toward her daughter.

Vollpension has also gotten creative to connect to its customers. When the COVID-19 pandemic struck, the leadership team was particularly stressed about supporting the 45 staff members who were over 60 years old, given how risky it was for them to do any kind of work outside the home. After a crowdfunding campaign raised 140,000 euros, Vollpension opened a studio space and launched an online baking academy. Today, students of the floury arts can sign up for video or in-person classes, where they will learn how to make traditional apple strudel, buchteln, or a punschkrapferl (a nougat- and jam-filled cake soaked in rum). The live workshop, which costs 130-140 euros, includes a selfie with the oma running the class. Several of the fall dates are already sold out.

“[Vollpension] creates community,” Sofia says. “The older people can talk, tell their stories, and make some money.”

That last part is crucial. Piffl-Percevic wants Vollpension to be more than just a place to get a coffee and a snack. “We have a mission,” he says. “We offer seniors a meaningful workplace where they earn extra income and regain a sense of purpose, community, and joy.”

Bringing together people of different generations, Vollpension combats a loneliness epidemic, but it also fights poverty among the elderly. When Kathrin received her first pension payment, she was shocked by how small it was. Women in Austria receive, on average, 40 percent less in their pension than men for various reasons, including that they are more likely to work part-time or stay at home as caregivers for children or parents.

“Vollpension shines a light on old-age poverty, especially for women,” Kathrin says. “If we can spark conversation, that’s already a success.”

When I was done with my meal, I requested a slice of cake. The waiter gave me a fake coin, which I had to use to pay an oma or opa in person for my dessert. At the front, as I waited to get an oma’s attention, I perused the assortment of merch: tote bags with “Too Old to Die Young” stamped across them, mugs with funky comics (a sad alarm clock and a dog lounging in a big mug of coffee), frames with embroidered messages (“When I was your age, I had to walk three miles to get stoned and have sex”), Vollpension-branded wine, and a cookbook, which features the recipes and stories of staff members.

When my turn came to order a slice of cake, I exchanged my coin for a sticky walnut-caramel torte. The oma asked me if I’d like a hit of whipped cream. I nodded. How could I say no to grandma?