During the recent World Cup tournament, one could travel just about anywhere in the Hudson Valley and not have a clue that most of the world was locked into a state of rabid, nationalistic hysterics over a progression of partisan soccer matches. No flag banners, no stocky men painted like patriotic zebras, and no random brawls flaring up between roving packs of hooligans, at least none prompted by a soccer match held 2,000 miles away. However, ducking into Rossi & Sons Deli in Poughkeepsie, there was no mistake what time in the four-year cycle of the sporting world we were currently living in. Jerseys, banners, and memorabilia proudly sporting the Italian colors of red, white, and green flanked every available corner of the deli, sometimes edging out real estate that would ordinarily have been reserved for hanging charcuterie or aging wheels of cheese. For a few weeks in June and July, Rossi's was both taste of the homeland and shrine to its winning potential.

The last World Cup victory for Italy was in 1982, three years after Rossi's first opened its doors. This was a time when Poughkeepsie was still a dedicated IBM town, riding out the successive years of midcentury prosperity with a large and cohesive Italian community. The area around Mount Carmel Church, not far from Rossi's, was still a strong religious and cultural site for Italians in the Hudson Valley. The neighborhood today boasts the remnants of the heyday of Italian businesses such as La Deliziosa and Caffé Aurora, where people line up for pastries during the holiday season. In 1965, Giovanni Rossi, an Italian immigrant from Parma, landed in the Hudson Valley. With his brother-in-law from Calabria, Victor Trocino, Rossi opened Rossi's Deli as a faithful interpretation of the kind of neighborhood establishment they had both left behind in Italy. Rossi labored over most of the cooking, while Victor ran the back end of things and made many of the business decisions. Eventually, the two steered away from a partnership and Rossi took the helm with his wife, Angela (Trocino's sister), playing a crucial supporting role. The husband-and-wife team poured countless hours into the rosticceria, gradually building up an invaluable neighborhood rapport while offering authentic Italian home cooking. Their time has most assuredly paid off in the form of a solid business, a devoted clientele, and 27 years in the same location. Rossi's sits in a tree-lined corner overlooking the serpentine passage of Route 9 and the anchorage of the Mid-Hudson Bridge. Inside it is a long, narrow stretch lined with roughly 40 feet of refrigerated deli cases, all generously stocked with rounds of imported Bel Paese cheese, cerignola olives, pancetta, homemade finger-sized cannolis, and Pernigotti chocolates. Directly across from the deli counter are floor-to-ceiling shelves heavy with the weight of rarified Italian imports like Fior d'Arancio (orange water), cold-pressed olive oil, salt-packed capers, and cinder-block sized cans of roma tomatoes. At the far end of the shop resides modest hills of steaming home-cooked foods ranging from lasagna and eggplant parmigiana to garlic-roasted chicken and roast pork loin behind a vertical glass food guard that playfully warns "Please do not lean on glass or I breaka you face." There is never any music playing, but the place is always holding the remnants of two or three conversations as the Rossis take orders, shoot the breeze with customers, or bicker amongst themselves.

Roberto and Fabio, two of the four Rossi brothers, man the front with the skill of surgeons and the bonhomie of neighborhood bartenders. They wear the badge of having grown up with the deli and are being primed to eventually take over the enterprise from their workhorse parents. A nimble, cherubic energy radiates from Roberto, the younger of the two, as he greets everyone who walks through the doors with a reception that feels both ambassadorial and like a fraternal slap on the back. Roberto is clearly the congenial face of Rossi's, as well as the tireless champion of its legacy. Fabio, with just a few years on his brother, is the more subdued and sardonic of the two, and holds the temperament of a dedicated tradesman and an expert baker. Roberto and Fabio are unmistakably brothers in appearance with their cropped hair and fraternal dynamic, which is affectionate as well as offhanded—behavior reminiscent of the 1996 film Big Night, in which Stanley Tucci and Tony Shaloub play quarreling brothers trying to keep their struggling Italian eatery afloat despite its poor business and their wildly divergent perspectives. This comparison only vaguely approximates the goings-on in the house of Rossi, but speaks to the universal truth of the unity and disjunction of family. Unlike their other two brothers, Roberto and Fabio have chosen to carry on the family tradition by dedicating themselves to its customs and menu as tirelessly as their parents have done for the previous three decades. The recent addition of "& Sons" to the deli's name last year reflects the brothers' commitment.