The realisation came gradually. As the birth approached,the french chef Juan Arbelaez became aware of the dietary constraints that now governed his pregnant partner’s daily life. He then decided to share them fully. For a month, he adopted the same rules: no alcohol, no rare meat, no raw fish or cold cuts. Even at the restaurant.

On social media, the Preg’Men Challenge quickly met with an unexpected response. Testimonials poured in, especially from pregnant women, who spoke of their exhaustion at the restrictions, the contradictory advice, and menus rarely designed with them in mind. Behind the issue of diet, a broader experience comes to the fore: that of a body undergoing transformation, of physical, hormonal and emotional upheaval, often downplayed, sometimes rendered invisible.

Without adopting a militant stance or moralising, the chef suggests simple steps: rethinking certain recipes, making menus clearer, devising ‘pregnancy-friendly’ dishes ”. A way of reminding us that pregnancy is not a hiatus to be endured, but a time to be nurtured, with care, with sensitivity, and, as far as possible, with pleasure.

A gourmet “Proust Questionnaire” with the French chef Juan Arbelaez

Your most unlikely recipe?

A chocolate mousse with jalapeño chilli, olive oil and smoked salt. On paper, nothing goes together. And yet. A signature dish, almost a challenge in itself, which he fully embraces.

The best place for a romantic dinner?

At my place. I cook, I choose the music, I prepare surprises. But on 14 February, the ones who are completely forgotten are the singles. Everyone struts about in couples, when we should be celebrating them. A rib of beef to share between six, and why not, meet new people and find love.

The recipe you wish you’d invented?

Pierre Hermé’s macaron. A single product that’s become universal. To manage to travel the world with a single recipe, seemingly simple, is genius. Like the burger or the Caesar salad: dishes that cross borders and speak to everyone.

Your first Proustian madeleine?

The smell of the coffee my mother used to make in a filter sock. In the morning, the water would boil, the coffee would drip through, and the smell would fill the whole flat. A flavour and a scent that are inseparable, deeply ingrained.

The dish that brings everyone together?

Pasta. A really good carbonara or a well-made Bolognese, with some good Parmesan: around the table, everyone agrees.

A single ingredient you could take to a desert island?

Lime. There’s fish, the sea is salty, coconuts for water. The acidity, the vitamin C, the energy: it’s all there.

If you were a scent or a fragrance?

Browned butter. That caramelisation just before it burns. A scent he learnt in France, and which he finds absolutely exceptional. He even shares a tip: make brown butter, cool it rapidly, season it. On toast, it’s “exceptional”.

The dish you’re least proud of?

My first quiche lorraine. After 40 minutes in the oven, the result was a soup. I’d forgotten the eggs. The result: a milk soup with bacon and Gruyère. Not great, but a learning experience.

And the one you’re most proud of?

It’s not a dish. It’s my family, my business partners, my friends. My wife, my baby on the way, the people I live and work with. The finest recipe I’ve ever made is a human one.

Is cooking an escape?

No. For me, cooking is more like therapy. It’s not about running away, but about settling down, reflecting, sorting things out. The repetitive motions—chopping, shelling, cutting—plunge you into an almost meditative state. They allow you to seek solutions and move forward.

Translated by Bethszabee Garner