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Where sausage links and salamis once swung, there are now architectural drawings on display in the big window. Inside, where long refrigerated cases squatted, desks made from recycled mahogany doors — where four architects sit hunched over computer screens — are arranged against the wall. In the basement, the meat smokehouse and the old stinky boiler are gone, replaced with a new high-efficiency unit, a radiant heating system, a file storage room and, soon, an employee cappuccino station.

Wedged between two similar low-rise 1920s commercial buildings just west of Runnymede Avenue, in the still gritty but slowly gentrifying “Annette Street Village,” husband-and-wife team Mary Ellen Lynch and Steven Comisso's approachable “storefront” practice encourages the passerby peek-in.

Welcome to Lynch + Comisso Architects, the friendliest little mom ‘n' pop design shop this side of the Humber River.

“We liked the idea of being open to the street and a little bit more visual to the public,” Ms. Lynch says of their decision to purchase the former delicatessen nine years ago. “I have a firm belief that we would have better clients [and] more interesting architecture out there if everybody knew a little bit more about design.”

To foster this, every few months, with help from employees Greg Piccini and Caitlin Plewes, the window display changes: This past summer, an illustration of four residential projects sitting on the beach with their roofs off had the caption “Take the lid off”; a year ago, a map pinpointing significant buildings along Annette was featured.

The hope is that the “arrogant notion of architecture” is dispelled, while fostering good relations with the neighbours. Since not only do Ms. Lynch and Mr. Comisso work in the 900-square-foot building, they live right above it — just like shopkeepers of yesteryear — on the second floor and newly designed and built third floor.

While there have been too many construction phases to list, the earliest priorities were getting the ground floor ready for the business — they had to gut it completely to rid it of the “terrible smell,” they say — and a renovation of the second floor so they could move in.

Originally, the apartment's layout was “very inefficient” and a little bit odd, since the first thing a visitor would spy upon climbing the stairs was the toilet.

It was also a mess, Mr. Comisso says. “We have a video of the first time we walked through here and it's frightening.”

Before the third floor existed, the front room looking onto Annette served as the couple's living room; today, it's the master bedroom. The kitchen has been rejigged a few times (most recently five years ago), as has the bathroom, which is now tucked out of view, although it's quite sexy with its floating tile wall and sink fashioned from a terrazzo birdbath.

The couple, who met at the University of Michigan and had difficultly finding work upon graduation during the early 1990s recession, are justifiably proud of their newly minted third storey: a grand, light-filled space divided by a half-wall cradling a staircase to the second floor.

There are clerestory windows; “caramelized” bamboo floors under which is the radiant heating system; and, in the kid's play area by the south wall (they have two small children), a roughed-in guest bathroom. There's even an “atrium” that looks down on to the second-floor kitchen, which Mr. Comisso jokes is so they can “yell at the kids” regardless of what floor they're on.

On the north wall, 10-foot condo-style windows underneath cedar soffits will glow like a lantern at night in the “adult lounge,” which is all contrasting angles created by sloped ceilings.

“I think a box is not enough for me,” he explains. “It's got to be something a little bit more interesting than a bunch of stacked boxes like you see in Dwell [magazine] — yes it's modern, yes it's cool, but it's just not enough.”

The addition didn't go as smoothly as they would have liked. This past spring, Mother Nature decided to turn their home into a water park.

With only tarps covering the open third-storey roof framing, they had to “manage” the amount of water coming down into the second floor during the torrential May downpours.

Their “water collection system,” Mr. Comisso says with a laugh at the memory, “consisted of stapling plastic to the ceiling, putting a rock in the centre and having all the water drain into a bucket.” Of course, the tarps collapsed one night and caused the “system” to fail, sending massive amounts of water everywhere. Luckily, none of it went as far down as the office.

Despite the setback, they hope to have the recently roofed living space painted and furnished by Christmas, so they can again concentrate on enjoying the neighbourhood.

They say it's ideal both for young families like their own and their practice, since they're close to everything, including the Bloor subway.

“The only thing we're missing is a tax break from the city for being live/work,” Mr. Comisso says with a smile.

Dave LeBlanc hosts The Architourist on CFRB Wednesdays during Toronto at Noon and Sunday mornings. Send inquiries to dave.leblanc@globeandmail.com.