For the second in my new running feature at Eater.com, "Who Goes There?," I visited Fedora, one of the last untouched vestiges of post-War Greenwich Village. The door to that place is a time portal. I felt I was in another world entirely once inside, away from all the cares the world had produced over the last 40 years. Had a light snow been falling outside, the place couldn't have felt more protective and cozy. I was also lucky enough to witness the nightly entrance of Fedora herself, the event coming earlier—around 6 PM—than is usually the case. The woman is very motherly; it's probably no mistake that I ordered Manicotti and banana cream pie—the menu I often requested on my birthday when I was a child. (Sorry. Too much information, perhaps.) I do believe I will truly mourn when and if this restaurant ever closes.