Keeping cool in the kitchen inside South Bay Food Company

South Bay Food Company grew out of COVID and into the heart of local gatherings

by Chelsea Sektnan

Food kept appearing on the kitchen island as Chef Reilly Quillin worked behind the counter, setting out lobster rolls, grilled cheese, and tomato soup. A small group of adults stood nearby, talking and sampling. In the adjoining room, two teenage sisters and their friends moved between tea sandwiches and sweets at their high-tea party, but the kitchen had become the place people naturally gathered.

Nothing about it felt rushed. Guests leaned on the counter, plates in hand, while Quillin and his team quietly moved food into the next room and refilled wine glasses.

Quillin answered questions as he moved easily through the space, joking with guests. There was no sense of hierarchy or performance. The kitchen felt open and relaxed, even as the evening stayed carefully organized.

It felt less like a catered event and more like being welcomed into someone’s kitchen.

Quillin is the co-owner and chef behind South Bay Food Company, a catering and meal-prep business he runs with his longtime friend and business partner, Austin Johnson.

Before South Bay Food Company, Quillin had been working his way through the South Bay restaurant world.

Chez Mélange co-owner Michael Franks gave him his first restaurant job when he was a teenager.

“Reilly started with me when he was like 16,” Franks said. “He started in the front of the house, as a busboy, and worked his way up. He was very enthusiastic, very hardworking. He cared about the customer, and then he developed a real passion for cooking.”

Franks said that the combination of hospitality and culinary drive is unusual in the industry.

“Very few people have both,” he said. “You get people who love cooking, or you get people who love dealing with customers. Reilly has both.”

When Chez Mélange closed in February 2020 after 37 years in business, Quillin suddenly lost not just a job, but a kitchen.

When Chez Mélange closed, Quillin was not the only one at a crossroads.

Johnson had known Quillin since they were teenagers. The two met years at a boarding school program in Provo, Utah.

“We were kids,” Johnson said. “Fourteen, fifteen years old. We were in the same program, lived in the same units, and even did a play together. That’s where we met.”

When Chez Melange shut down during COVID, Johnson saw a chance to help his friend turn an informal catering effort into a real business.

“Quentin was really good at the food, but he couldn’t get invoices out on time,” Johnson said. “I had been doing startups, so I told him, let me help you.”

“Our articles of incorporation are March 9, 2020,” Johnson said. “COVID hit like a week later.”

With restaurants closed and gatherings canceled, Quillin pivoted to making meals for people stuck at home. Johnson handled packaging, pricing, and logistics.

“It was our version of catering during COVID,” Johnson said. They delivered prepackaged meals to dozens of households and religious congregations across the South Bay.

As restrictions were lifted, something else happened.

“Everybody wanted parties all at once,” Quillin said.

The small operation that had survived on meal deliveries found itself in demand for weddings, backyard gatherings, synagogue events, and community celebrations.

Chef Eliot Swartz, a Chez Mélange alumnus, Culinary Institute of America graduate, and past president of Temple Beth El in San Pedro, first encountered Quillin through the network that grew out of Chez Mélange. He subsequently  hired him for weddings, synagogue meals, and cooking classes.

“I know the quality of his food,” Swartz said. “But also the ease of working with him. You can talk to him. You give him a theme, and he just comes up with a menu.”

Quillin does not work from a fixed menu the way many catering companies do.

“He’ll create a menu for you,” he said. “You taste it, you see if you like it, and then he executes. He takes direction really well, and that’s rare.”

Quillin now serves as the in-house chef for Temple Beth El, where he caters events and teaches cooking classes, including a recent class that put a Jewish twist on soul food.

“He goes out of his way to get the best fish, the best produce,” Swartz said. “He wouldn’t put his name on something he didn’t personally love.”

For Diane Slome, a Rancho Palos Verdes resident who works in marketing, that care showed up in every detail of her daughter’s college graduation party.

Slome hired Quillin to cater a gathering of 75 guests, a job that required servers, bartenders, rentals, and a menu that could accommodate different dietary needs.

“He handled everything,” Slome said. “The staff, the bar, the food, the setup. It allowed us to actually enjoy our own party instead of running it.”

Sloan said that the combination of professionalism, culinary expertise, and

ease is what made the experience stand out.

“When you hire someone like him, you don’t have to worry,” she said. “You can be present.”

Adrian Bastida Jr. has worked with Quillin for several years. His father worked alongside Quillin in restaurants, and that history mattered when Bastida started doing catering jobs.

“If Reilly wasn’t a good person, my mom wouldn’t have let him around us,” Bastida said.

Bastida said he first began working for Quillin about three years ago and has stayed because of how the jobs are run.

“It’s more chill working with Reilly in the catering,” he said. “He’s always on top of everything, but in a good way. He makes sure everything is set before he moves on, but he’s not coming down hard on anybody.”

In an industry known for ego and burnout, Bastida said Quillin stands out.

“I’ve never seen him put another employee down or talk badly about anybody,” he said. “He’s always looking at how to make things better.”

That attitude, Johnson says, has become one of the company’s biggest strengths.

“Reilly doesn’t have an ego,” Johnson said. “That’s his superpower. When something goes wrong, his instinct is to turn it into something positive. That’s huge in business.”

That philosophy was on full display back in the Palos Verdes kitchen, where the high-tea party was winding down. Kids drifted back and forth from the adjoining room, picking at the last of the sweets, while the adults lingered around the island, talking as Quillin and his team quietly cleared and reset.

Nothing felt rushed. No one was pulled away from their guests to manage the food. The evening had been allowed to unfold the way gatherings are supposed to, with the work happening in the background.

For Johnson, that is the point.

“We want people to be able to actually enjoy being together,” he said. “That’s what food should do.” ER