Bratwurst, N.Y.C.

New York, for all of its diversity, is also a city of defined communities, like the group of men who, for years, have gathered in the back of the Kettle of Fish in Greenwich Village. There, around a round oak table that is supposed to seat six but can be home to a few more, and not far from the gaze of a bobblehead Ray Nitschke doll, they watch their Green Bay Packers play — week after winter week, pleasant enough to other fans who share their allegiances yet protective of their small bit of turf deep inside the low-ceilinged bar.

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