Eight months. That’s all it took. The Adam Simmonds Voyage restaurant closure made headlines on August 21, 2025, and honestly, it felt like watching someone’s dream crumble in real time. The restaurant opened in January with all the usual fanfare, with press releases touting “journeys” and “sensory experiences.” By late summer, the doors were shut for good.
I’ve been watching London’s restaurant scene long enough to know that closures happen. But this one stung differently. Because it wasn’t just about bad food or poor service. It was about timing, location, and one absolutely savage review that might’ve sealed the fate before the paint had properly dried.
The Setup That Should’ve Worked
Adam Simmonds’ restaurant inside The Megaro Hotel seemed solid on paper. Le Gavroche under Michel Roux Jr. The Ritz. Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons. Six years as executive chef at Danesfield House, winning Chef of the Year at the 2011 Hotel Cateys. Proper pedigree.
The Voyage restaurant took over the space from Magenta. They redesigned everything. Minimalist Scandi vibe, painted black, open kitchen with counter seating. Big windows flood the light during the day.
Voyage with Adam Simmonds menu featured dishes described with single words. “Lobster.” “Celeriac.” “Venison.” No flowery descriptions. The tasting menu ran £115 for seven courses or £85 for five.
The Review That Changed Everything
Seventeen days after opening, Giles Coren turned up from The Times. His Voyage restaurant review was brutal.
He called it “all the miseries of the Scandi kitchen”. Described an oyster cut into three pieces, a dry sweetbread, langoustine with “thin and irrelevant jus and some curls of turnip. Or celeriac. Or possibly an orthotic insole.”
Instead of coffee, Simmonds served a hot water infusion of cocoa beans. Coren’s response: “It was the saddest thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. And I have given CPR to a cat.”
That line went everywhere. Everyone shared it. Before the restaurant found its rhythm, they were known as the place with sad cocoa water, worse than cat CPR.
Someone who’d eaten there in March said Simmonds seemed genuinely gutted. Not for his reputation, but for his team getting eviscerated in a national newspaper fortnight after opening.
The Other Side of the Story
Not everyone hated it, though.
Grace Dent from The Guardian quite liked it. OpenTable reviews showed 4.8 stars from 39 diners. “A real voyage of discovery taste-wise.” “Each course was exquisite.”
The wine list got proper respect. And Simmonds, alcohol-free since 2017, paid special attention to non-alcoholic pairings. The strawberry wine with dessert was apparently brilliant.
But that doesn’t matter when Coren’s cat CPR line is what everyone remembers.
The Location Problem Nobody Talks About
King’s Cross isn’t a dining destination. It’s a transport hub. People catch trains there. They don’t go thinking, “Let’s have a lovely meal.”
Opening a £115 tasting menu restaurant next to a major railway station in 2025? That’s a proper risk. The Megaro Hotel itself looks like someone vomited paint over a Georgian building. The mural was meant to be vibrant. What it looks like is a graffiti accident.
Not exactly the sophisticated entrance you want for a restaurant chasing Voyage with Adam Simmonds’s Michelin star ambitions.
The Economics of Failure
The official statement cited “challenging economic climate and disappointing trading performance.” Corporate speak for “we’re not making enough money.”
The restaurant opened in January. By August, it was done. Eight months.
The costs must’ve been enormous. Simmonds and his team. The redesign. High-end ingredients. All that kit in the open kitchen. You need proper footfall to justify those expenses. They didn’t get it.
Whether it was location, concept, pricing, the Coren review, or all combined, they couldn’t fill enough seats. Eight months isn’t even enough time to properly find your audience. It takes years to become a destination. They didn’t get years.
What About the Staff?
Closures hurt real people. Chefs who moved jobs to work with Simmonds. Front-of-house staff who believed in the project.
When the Adam Simmonds Voyage restaurant closure was announced, it was immediate. Doors closed 21st August; everyone goes home.
Simmonds still oversees Spagnoletti, the more casual Italian place at the same hotel. That’s still trading. So some staff might’ve shifted there. Others? Looking for new jobs in a market where restaurants are dropping like flies.
2025 has been savage for London hospitality. Increased VAT, higher National Insurance, staffing shortages, and rising rent and energy costs. Restaurants that might’ve weathered one problem can’t survive all of them at once.
The Bigger Picture
What do we learn from the Adam Simmonds Voyage restaurant closure?
Location matters more than we think. You can have the best chef, finest ingredients, and most thoughtful concept. Wrong spot? Doesn’t matter.
Reviews matter. One savage takedown in a major newspaper can define a restaurant before it’s had a chance.
Timing’s everything. Opening a high-end tasting menu in early 2025, when people are squeezed financially, was always tough.
And maybe not everyone wants Nordic minimalism with dinner. Sometimes people want to know what they’re ordering. They want comfort, warmth, and generosity. Single-word menu descriptions and cocoa bean infusions don’t tick those boxes.
Simmonds will bounce back. Chefs with his talent always do. But Voyage? Done. Another ambitious restaurant that didn’t make it through its first year.
The space will become something else eventually. New plans, new concepts, new promises.
For eight months in 2025, there was a restaurant in King’s Cross trying to do something interesting. It didn’t work out. That’s worth remembering, even if most people only remember the line about cat CPR.
Wonder what they’ll do with all that expensive kitchen equipment now.
