From techno parties in Paris to costume design, and finally to Berlin’s Brunnenstraße, Margaux Arabian has lived many lives. At VOLK, which she runs with her husband Oliver Chesler, she serves cuisine deeply inspired by — and learned from — her mother, Ghislaine Arabian, a former two-Michelin-starred chef. What emerges is a story about mothers and daughters, creative freedom, and the art of cooking yourself a home in a foreign city.
Berlin-Mitte is a place of fleeting trends. Restaurants arrive, concepts fade. But step into VOLK on Brunnenstraße and the city’s noise recedes. This is not a hyper-stylized “concept store” of culinary arts, but a place that feels like a well-kept secret — pieced together from memories, music, and the scent of genuine French butter. Nothing here is decorative by accident; everything has a story.
VOLK is the shared project of Margaux Arabian, a Parisian with Armenian roots, and Oliver Chesler, a musician from New York. That these two worlds — the New York underground and French haute cuisine — collide in Berlin is a story in itself. Yet the heart of VOLK beats to a rhythm that began much earlier: in a mother’s kitchen and a costume designer’s wardrobe.
Before Margaux became a host and a chef, she told stories through fabric. “I wasn’t initially destined for the kitchen,” she says almost casually, as if still slightly surprised by where life led her. She spent four years at a horse school, organized techno parties in Paris — where she met Oliver — and later worked with renowned costume designer Dominique Borg. These detours were not an escape from her upbringing so much as a way of finding her own language. “I wanted to find my own voice,” she explains. “But I always stayed connected to my parents’ restaurants. I tasted, observed, and learned whenever I could.”
Those years shaped her eye. Anyone entering VOLK immediately senses the work of someone who knows how to create atmosphere and emotion. The interior does not feel designed, but collected — a collage of art, objects, and carefully selected tableware. Even the porcelain plates by Bernardaud carry a personal imprint: while not created exclusively for VOLK, they are the result of a close collaboration with the factory, which sets aside specific styles for Margaux, some of them unique pieces.
At the back of the bistrot, Margaux occasionally hosts a small vintage fashion pop-up. Less a traditional shop than a physical extension of her personal Vinted universe, it offers carefully curated pieces that appear for limited periods. You might come for oysters and leave with a silk blouse or a vintage accessory — a gesture that feels quintessentially Berlin.
Beyond daily service, VOLK regularly transforms into a social hub. Sunday markets organized by Margaux invite friends, clients, and designers to sell clothing and creative works. Music, burlesque performances, and playful details like €1 oysters blur the line between restaurant, salon, and neighbourhood living room.
To understand the culinary soul of VOLK, however, one has to go back further — to the kitchens of Lille and Paris. Margaux quite literally grew up in her parents’ restaurants. “Our first one in Lille was an entire building,” she recalls, “and I lived inside it, looked after by the pastry chefs.” Later, when her parents took over the legendary Pavillon Ledoyen in Paris, her childhood unfolded among palace gardens and professional kitchens. While other children played on playgrounds, she ate foie gras sandwiches or chocolate mi-cuit prepared by the best pastry chefs in France.
Her mother, Ghislaine Arabian, spent decades cooking at the highest level, earning two Michelin stars along the way. For her, Margaux’s trajectory feels less like a surprise than a continuation. “She was always there, even when she was elsewhere,” Ghislaine says with a laugh. “You cannot escape such a childhood.”
This lineage is not mere name-dropping; it is the backbone of VOLK’s quality. The suppliers from whom the bistrot sources its goods — Gillardeau oysters, wines from exceptional vintners — are long-standing family relationships. They know exactly who they are delivering to. Beyond its own kitchen, VOLK supplies its freshest oysters to some of Berlin’s most iconic institutions, including Grill Royal, Borchardt, and Paris Bar.
Berlin, though, is not Paris — and that distance matters. For Margaux, moving here was not about replicating her parents’ restaurants. With Oliver from New York and herself from Paris, Berlin felt like neutral ground. “We couldn’t imagine building our family life exclusively in either city,” she says. “Berlin felt right immediately. What I missed wasn’t Paris itself — it was French food.”
That longing slowly turned into action. Phone calls home became requests for parcels filled with flavors she couldn’t find locally. Ghislaine remembers the moment clearly. “And then the phone rang,” she says. VOLK was born not from a business plan, but from homesickness — and from the desire to make French food feel less ceremonial, more lived-in.
“In Berlin, tradition feels lighter,” Ghislaine observes. “Here, Margaux makes it accessible. This is not concept dining — it’s high-end bistrot, nothing else.” Margaux agrees. She gravitates toward simple, comforting dishes — food that gathers people rather than impresses them. “Quality defines the price, not ambition,” she says. “Freshness defines the menu, not trends.” It is a philosophy she learned early, watching her mother cook.
Today, as Margaux moves through VOLK — past tables set with Bernardaud porcelain, toward her small vintage universe in the back — one can see both the child who ate foie gras sandwiches in a palace and the woman who found her own definition of Volk in Berlin.
VOLK on Brunnenstraße is more than the sum of its parts. It is the result of a biography that refused to choose between art and cuisine — and instead embraced both. It proves that reinvention does not require forgetting where you come from. Whether you arrive for a seafood platter, a portion of Boeuf Bourguignon, or leave with a pair of vintage earrings, at VOLK you are always a guest among friends.
Book your meal at volkmitte.de.
words. Silke Bolms
