From theguardian.com
But, from the reaction it received, you would think its supporters were genuinely grieving. “We had people coming in and crying and hugging the staff,” says its co-founder, Andy Crumpton, his surprise audible. There was another element to the devastation, he says. For its plant-based punters, Unity Diner was yet another meat-free establishment that had outwardly appeared to be prospering, only to suddenly shut down.
Ask anyone who frequents plant-based establishments – whether they are vegan, vegetarian or simply trying to cut down on meat – and it is likely that they will have seen a favourite spot go under in recent years. Many of my London favourites, such as Rudy’s Vegan Diner, Halo Burger and Neat Burger, have closed, while friends across the country have lamented their own losses: The Glasvegan in Glasgow, Veggie Republic in Liverpool, Jungle Bird in Birmingham. Some go out in style; some fade without a trace, leaving online reviewers to complain about unhonoured reservations and Reddit detectives to seek out information.
There seem to be two popular theories as to why so many apparently successful plant-based restaurants are closing. Some argue that the hospitality industry as a whole is struggling; others say that the never-ending, oversimplified discourse about protein and ultra-processed foods has driven people away from veganism. Given the volume of chatter about the carnivore diet and the myriad myths concerning plant-based eating – that it is impossible to build muscle as a vegan, that plant milk is always bad for you, that kids should never be fed a vegan diet – the idea that people are forsaking veganism is understandable.
But, despite the negativity, interest in veganism is still on the rise, with environmental and health concerns now considered more significant contributing factors to giving up animal products than animal welfare. According to Damian Watson from the Vegan Society, about 2 million Britons now identify as vegan or follow a plant-based diet (vegans usually referencing the philosophy, while for those on a plant-based diet it is more about the diet itself).
Crumpton is right about the ominous feeling across the sector, though. As Herbivorous, a small plant-based chain from the north of England, put it while announcing its own demise in April: “It seems you can’t open social media at the moment without reading about another hospitality business closing down.” Then there was the news last month that the New York-based Eleven Madison Park (EMP), the only plant-based establishment in the world with three Michelin stars, would be putting meat back on its menu this autumn. The head chef, Daniel Humm, explained: “The best way to continue to champion plant-based cooking is to let everyone participate around the table.” Unsurprisingly, this announcement did not go down well with EMP’s nearly half a million followers. “So good to hear climate change and animal ethics have been solved and we can focus on the most important moral issue: maximising profit,” one Instagram user wrote.
Another voice criticising EMP’s “backwards move” was Clare Every, a vegan influencer highlighting the best plant-based food London has to offer on her blog, The Little London Vegan. When a restaurant goes under, Every’s followers make sure she is the first to know. “I get so many messages from people saying: ‘Oh, just so you know, this place you’ve got on your website is closed down.’ And I think: ‘I had no idea they were even struggling,’” she says.
Ask Every, and many British vegans, which recent loss cut the deepest, and they will often reference The Vurger Co. Founded by Rachel Hugh in 2016, Vurger felt like a huge success story. It had four stores across London, Brighton and Manchester, a cookbook, and a range of condiments sold by Co-op, Ocado and Whole Foods. Its menu was varied and consistently delicious, offering vegetable-based patties and mock meat, including a limited edition “pork-crackling” burger so crisp and juicy that the memory still makes me salivate.
Vurger gained a loyal customer base from the start, says Hugh, and planned to expand. But after Covid, priorities had to change. “Business decisions became more about resilience day to day and pushing through the tough economic environment,” she says. First, its Canary Wharf branch went. Then, in February 2024, Hugh announced the three remaining restaurants would be closing, too.
Not all brands are so upfront about their closure. Many social media accounts simply stop posting. Phone numbers ring out. Websites display out-of-date information or fail to load; or, in the case of a once popular vegan pasta business that had sites across England, redirect to a scammy-looking cam-girl site. The meat-free, user-based restaurant review app HappyCow usually has the most accurate information, but relying on it shifts the onus from the businesses to customers.
The end is not always permanent, however. After the Manchester vegan haven Wholesome Junkies said they shut down its “packed every weekend” Cheetham Hill branch last year, due to “rocketing” costs, it reopened in a new spot in a matter of months. Unity Diner’s announcement seemed equally set in stone when it closed post-Veganuary. “It got to a point where we were just getting deeper and deeper in debt,” Crumpton tells me.
But the support was immense and, for once, it wasn’t too little, too late. Veganuary proved so lucrative that Unity Diner tripled its normal monthly profits. Despite being a “done deal”, liquidation was halted. Unity reopened in April, delighting and baffling fans in equal measure – but it definitely felt like a much-needed win. It is still “barely breaking even”, Crumpton clarifies, but its London-first vegan Sunday roast carvery (complete with unlimited sides, including that most hard-to-make beast, the vegan yorkshire pudding) has been a real “saviour” since the relaunch.
Unity’s renaissance is swimming against the tide of today’s hospitality industry. Between January and March this year, the UK experienced 20 restaurant, pub and hotel closures a week, with the cost of living crisis continuing to have an impact on the industry. Consumers have less disposable income to spend on meals out, while increases in national insurance and the minimum wage mean those meals are pricier and feel like even more of a luxury. Hugh says inflation had a dramatic impact on Vurger’s fortunes. At times, ingredients were cheaper at Tesco than the wholesaler, she says. Elsewhere, electricity bills soared so high that they would switch off their grills during quieter points in the day, which caused “major operational issues across the board” and amounted to a “totally unsustainable food chain”.
There are, however, specific problems that are directly affecting the vegan dining industry. Disinformation about what is and isn’t healthy (and what healthy even means) is rife on social media, and vegan food – and vegans in general, as Watson puts it – have become easy targets. Despite research by the Food Foundation, among others, finding that plant-based alternatives to meat are better for the planet and mostly healthier than the same products made from animals, as they contain fewer calories, less saturated fat and more fibre, half of Europeans do not eat plant-based meat and dairy alternatives because they want to avoid ultra-processed foods. “We’re fighting two battles at the same time,” Every says. “People either think: ‘Oh, it’s too healthy, there’s no protein, that’s not going to fill me up,’ or they think: ‘Oh, it’s processed, it’s not healthy.’”
Yet The Vegan Society’s statistics are clear: there are more vegans than ever. And Veganuary, which was founded in 2014, saw an estimated 25.8 million people worldwide try veganism in January 2025. “The appetite for plant-based food is still there, and many customers want to eat in a way that aligns with their values,” Hugh says. “What’s missing is the structural support to help those businesses thrive.”
But while veganism is on the up, Watson argues that eating habits have changed. If the vegan boom of the 2010s played out through the repeated launch of “dirty” vegan junk food spots specialising in sinewy chick’n nuggets or juicy burgers drenched in barbecue sauce, then today’s buzziest restaurants reflect a redefined focus on protein. Every says vegan Asian restaurants, such as London’s Tofu Vegan and Mali Vegan Thai, or the national chain Wawin, are thriving: cuisines that have a long history of integrating vegetables, tofu and other soy products.
A stickier point for the industry is one that, on paper, is great for the average vegan. As meat-free living has grown in popularity, most UK restaurants (particularly in larger cities and towns) have upped the game with their plant-based options. A beef burger can be swapped for Beyond Meat with ease. Vegans are no longer forced to choose chips or a limp side salad, and are catered for by most establishments.
A side-effect of this is that cash-tight groups with mixed dietary preferences are less likely to frequent solely plant-based establishments. In “a super price-sensitive market”, Hugh says, an independent restaurant cannot compete with a vegan burger from McDonald’s that costs a fiver. Hospitality is tough enough when you cater for everyone, Crumpton says. When you’re “a bit niche”, things only get more difficult.
For Hugh, what needs challenging is the prevailing view that “everyone is served” at omnivorous restaurants, whereas they are not at a fully vegan place. This was the argument given by EMP’s Humm for its reinstatement of meat. Every takes issue with this. “They said they changed their menu to be more inclusive, but I think nothing is more inclusive than plant-based food,” she says. “Veganism has an image problem … [but] it’s for everyone.”
There is also a sense that vegans feel a stronger connection to the restaurants they visit than the average diner. It is what Watson calls veganism’s “team spirit”. The closure of a restaurant often feels like the loss of a group member, particularly in small UK towns, many of which still have a smattering of purely plant-based options, if any. There is a reason people cried on their perceived final visit to Unity Diner: it is a community that goes beyond food.
Hugh remembers the day she announced that Vurger was closing with immediate effect, and the “overwhelming” fan response: “We heard from so many people – longtime customers, staff past and present, fellow founders – and it reminded us why we started in the first place. The message we kept getting was: ‘You mattered.’” These flurries of support are often tinged with sadness and regret: if only we had visited more when we had the chance.
But had Unity Diner vanished into thin air and not received all that social media support about its closure, it would not be here today, with burgers being flipped inside, and meat-free gravy being poured. “It wasn’t a plan by any means,” Crumpton says. “We were done for. We were making a huge loss every month, and we managed to come back.” Of course, “things can change at any time”, and success for a vegan restaurant in 2025 is all relative. But, for now, Crumpton is happy: “I don’t think we’re making any money, but we’re not losing money, put it that way.”
