• This is part of an occasional series about local home cooks.

The kitchen is small and floor space is at a premium. There are no cabinets, and few drawers. It is lined with shelves, racks, and a number of unique storage containers that have been smartly re-purposed. Wire bins hold potatoes and onions. Spices are stored in neatly labeled metal canisters. Shelves against the back wall hold hundreds of cookbooks, interspersed with serving vessels and kitchen tools.

Pristine and painstakingly organized, this room is closer in character to many restaurant kitchens than to the average home kitchen. This is the third kitchen Stephanie Sullivan has designed for herself, as she's moved to different places, and the one that she has been the happiest with. It is clearly a working cook's kitchen, not some kind of conversation piece.

Every aspect of its design has been thought through, not only for how Sullivan wants to cook in it, but also so that she can easily accommodate guests. In fact, "There's a work side and a guest side," explains Sullivan, separated by a large island in the center of the room that provides the majority of the counter space for prep work while also functioning as a good place to conduct an interview over coffee and Sullivan's addictive Rosemary Bread.

This bread is very representative of Sullivan's style of cooking. It has a story (It was inspired by Lesley Stowe's Raincoast Crisps, Sullivan's favorite cracker), it is practical (Sullivan travels a lot for work, and she often brings a loaf of this bread with her to eat for breakfast), and it is incredibly delicious, (dark and just a little sticky, aromatic from fresh rosemary, studded with sunflower seeds, raisins and pecans).

For Sullivan, food is about more than just sustenance. It's also about making connections to people, places and stories. When asked to define a style that best describes her food or a region that most influences her, she is almost perplexed. Like any comfortable cook, she has a repertoire; it's just not one that is easily defined.

Sullivan was raised in Indianapolis, and she thinks that her mother was a fairly adventurous cook for someone in the 1950s and '60s. Sullivan herself branched out early. She recalls throwing two dinner parties when she was in high school. The first involved recipes from Vincent and Mary Price's "A Treasury of Great Recipes," a cookbook that bears a striking, if superficial, resemblance to a Bible. The second involved sitting on the floor and cooking on Habachi grills.

Some of her more direct influences include her maternal grandmother, who was English, and who "always made roast beef and Yorkshire pudding at Sunday dinner," says Sullivan; as well as four years living in Lexington, Ky., where she started making grits, Turkey hash over corn pancakes, and Kentucky beer cheese.

Sullivan is a study in mixing order with eclecticism. Looking through one of two family cookbooks she has written, I'm charmed by the poetic contrast between dishes. The book is organized by listing recipes in alphabetical order, so Cevapcici, a dish made from grilled, minced meat, is followed by Champagne Cocktail.

Brunch is the perfect meal for a cook like Sullivan. There is more freedom to experiment and fewer expectations about what absolutely needs to be present. One can make a wide variety of dishes, and not all of your guests need to try all of them. In fact, given the bounty of Sullivan's brunches, it's almost impossible to try everything. But I have a go all the same.

Over introductions and conversation, hors d'oeuvres are served. Although Sullivan is 100 percent in charge of the kitchen, Tom Current is not only her partner in life but also an invaluable partner in entertaining. He pours drinks, clears plates and generally proves himself an excellent host.

First courses are light and refreshing, successfully tricking the stomach into thinking it hasn't eaten very much. Excellent muffins are served with a surprisingly delicious condiment Sullivan recently discovered: pine cone syrup. A platter of cocktail shrimp comes with a kiwi-mango salsa. Small bowls of watercress vichyssoise are delicate and refreshing, perfectly smooth with that lovely hint of sourness from the watercress. I knew better than to ask for seconds (this was, after all, only the first course), but that didn't stop me from tilting the bowl to get to the last drop of this perfectly seasoned, verdant soup.

Many of the foods Sullivan chooses to serve are meaningful to her. "Basque Pie," a savory chicken and sausage pie with a crisp, buttery pastry crust and a luscious cream sauce that keep the meat moist, is probably her most requested recipe. Cheese grits reference her love of "Kentucky-type foods"; "pub puddings," airy mini-Yorkshire puddings filled with cheddar cheese and ham, would make her grandmother proud. Vegetarian options are plentiful and interesting (Sullivan was a vegetarian for five years and two of her children still are), including a fluffy, lightly browned quiche with peppers and asparagus, French lentil salad with celery and fennel, Green salad with dragon fruit and a side dish of broccoli, cauliflower and artichokes.

Because this had already been a substantial feast, Sullivan had a strategy prepared for dessert. She served panna cotta shots in tiny beer mugs she'd originally used for a beer tasting dinner. Alongside, she passed around plates of fresh strawberries and grilled pineapple chunks. No one could resist such a miniature serving of what proved to be an excellent panna cotta, and suddenly seconds and even thirds of this silken, lightly sweet dessert seemed well within our grasp.

Some cooks are nurturers. Others like to show off their talents. Although Sullivan demonstrates some serious skills, and clearly enjoys feeding people, she seems to enjoy most of all the community aspects of gathering people together for a meal.

Every year since 1977, she has held soup suppers. When she's been new to a neighborhood, as she was to Pittsburgh in 1986, she simply drops invitations in all of her neighbors' mailboxes.

"A lot of people that I now consider to be friends came to the first soup supper we had here," recalls Sullivan. At this point, she makes eight or nine soups for 40 to 50 people. Just recently she held the inaugural dinner for a neighborhood supper club.

Good food is important; feeding others well is an act of great generosity. Sullivan demonstrates many of the traits of good professional cooks: Precision, good timing, organization. But for her, cooking is clearly an expression of connection, community and fellowship -- a realm to which only the amateur cook can truly lay claim.