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Chillin' Wit': For Sister Mary Scullion, food is a gift

SISTER MARY Scullion's electric warmth fills her cubbyhole of a kitchen. She powers around the small space, rinsing the coffee pot at the sink, slicing blemishes off sweet potatoes with a silver knife, gingerly transferring a cooked turkey from an aluminum roasting pan filled with greasy drippings to a cutting board. She opens the fridge and grabs a wedge of cheese, next an onion. Then suddenly she stops, stilled.

Editor's Note: Chillin' Wit' is a regular feature of the Daily News spotlighting a name in the news away from the job.

SISTER MARY Scullion's electric warmth fills her cubbyhole of a kitchen. She powers around the small space, rinsing the coffee pot at the sink, slicing blemishes off sweet potatoes with a silver knife, gingerly transferring a cooked turkey from an aluminum roasting pan filled with greasy drippings to a cutting board. She opens the fridge and grabs a wedge of cheese, next an onion. Then suddenly she stops, stilled.

"OK, let's think," she says, figuring what comes next, talking to herself. "Let's see what time it is; 2:13."

In less than three hours on this Easter Sunday, her apartment, no bigger than a college-dorm suite, will be crammed with 10 dinner guests.

The 58-year-old nun has spent more than three decades nurturing and feeding the homeless. But she happily confesses that she's not the best cook.

"This is not my forte. I try - let's put it that way," she says, smiling, teeth showing, her eyes crinkled into crescents.

This is a woman who cofounded Project H.O.M.E., a program that has dramatically reduced the city's homeless population. She's helped transform her blighted North Philly neighborhood, creating more than 500 units of affordable housing, greening vacant lots, opening a state-of-the-art computer lab and learning center on Judson Street, near Berks. An avid runner, she competes in the Broad Street Run each year and finished the New York Marathon in 1999.

So, yes, she can handle Easter dinner for 10 of her friends.

In the midst of whirling around her kitchen, waving a serving spoon as she talks with her hands, Sister Mary's cellphone rings. It's a guest, asking what to bring. "Not a thing," she says. "Not a thing, positive. No. No. No. I'm all squared away."

The turkey is done. So is the coleslaw and cranberry sauce. The sweet potatoes, their skins scrubbed, are ready for the oven. She's on to the meatloaf - hence, the onion. Dessert is easy: Chocolate, chocolate and more chocolate.

At the center of the dining table sits a brandy glass filled with pebble-sized chocolate eggs, coated in pastel blue, yellow and pink candied shells.

"Try one. They're deadly," she says, as a guest fishes one from the glass.

She opens a box of chocolate-dipped marshmallows and insistently offers one, "These are to die for, honestly," she says.

For Sister Mary, food is a "fundamental gift," nourishment for body and soul.

"I've learned to appreciate the value of food in different ways. One is the sense of community and family . . . and what a gift it is to have friends and family to share a special holiday with. Food is a way to connect with friends and family."

- Wendy Ruderman