In spite of all the action inside, Café Cappuccino is marked by a simple maroon awning and neon beer signs. But you don’t need a Trevi Fountain replica by the front door to make it a true Italian spot. “When the Italians lost the World Cup, I saw a [drunken] guy double-parked outside beating the shit out of his red, white and green Cadillac,” says patron Jenny Benevento. “That’s how you know [Cappuccino] is Italian.”

“The real Italians, they don’t get too drunk,” counters Carmela Lappo, a first-generation Italian who owns the bar with her brother Nick, who was born in Italy. These siblings follow the tradition of drinking slowly to stimulate the palate over the course of a long evening. Nick and Carmela happily school amateurs in the right way to go about it. “You start off with an aperitivo like Campari,” Carmela explains. The crimson-colored, herb and citrus–based Campari and the equally popular (and equally strong) bitter-orange Aperol mix well with soda and ice.

Defying those who expect a large glass of Chianti with every Italian meal, Café Cappuccino doesn’t offer much in the realm of wine. No matter—the sandwiches, especially the standout chicken Parmesan, match better with a glass of Italian pilsner. Nick recommends Nastro Azzurro, a medium-weight beer with a hint of citrus.

The evening ends as it begins—with a strong drink. Digestivi are intended to settle the stomach after a large meal. Those who can’t bear the thought of an aggressive glass of grappa (made from grapes leftover from wine making and known among Italians as “firewater”) should ask Nick for some limoncello (supersweet lemon-infused grain alcohol; see “Lemon aid” for a recipe). Another option: amaro, a purple bittersweet herbed brandy whose local fan base has declined. “The neighborhood isn’t all Italian anymore,” Carmela admits, dusting off a bottle of Averna, the most prevalent brand. “Some of the customers just drink vodka.”