Festival food has never been a bargain, but at Electric Picnic, Richie Herlihy found himself in the eye of a TikTok storm. The Cork-born sensation, known for his biting social media food reviews, took his first leap into the food truck business at Stradbally last weekend – and the critics were merciless.
The TikTokers-turned-critics didn’t just critique – they condemned. Herlihy’s truck charged €20 for burgers and chips, and the same for a “Sloppy Richie” – a soft taco with cheese and chips. The backlash was fierce: “a rip-off”, “a joke”, “a disgrace”. One user quipped: “I’d eat the grass before I’d pay €20 for that.”
Herlihy wasn’t having it. “Ya it’s EP ffs, a girl paid €6.50 for frozen chips on their own, my food is cheap for EP,” he shot back. “There was no better value, people either bought frozen or they bought fresh.”
But is it a recipe for a rip-off? A three-day festival, 75,000 hungry souls, and eye-watering prices – are the TikTok haters on to something? If you want the truth, you need to go Deep Throat and “follow the money”.
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The money trail leads to the heart of Electric Picnic, run by UK promoter Melvin Benn of Festival Republic. But the real gatekeepers of the food scene? Central Fusion, the company responsible for co-ordinating vendors and “bringing the event to life”. Some say they’re not just co-ordinating – they’re eating their lunch.
In 2023, Central Fusion tore up the old fee structure. Gone were the predictable costs based on frontage metres, water and electricity. Now, traders face a new reality: a percentage of sales, as well as the water and electricity charges. Off the record, vendors whisper about a 23 per cent cut of gross sales. As if that weren’t enough, traders are locked into using Central Fusion’s tap-and-pay machines – at a cost: €150 per card machine, and that’s just the start. Even small operations like Herlihy’s need at least two.
The plot thickens. Central Fusion doesn’t just take a slice – they take it first. Traders don’t see a cent until the promoter has taken its cut, deducted utility expenses, and sent out a statement for the trader’s approval. Weeks can pass before the balance lands in the trader’s account. It’s a system designed to benefit the promoters, while traders bear the brunt.
So why do they do it? Why do traders willingly step into this financial quagmire, endure the gripes about sky-high prices, pay out hefty commissions, and risk seeing their profits vanish with the rain?
For some, it’s a calculated risk. Small food trucks, built for the festival circuit, operate with leaner models – frozen chips, frozen burgers. The logic? Minimise risk, maximise shelf life. If sales flop, the unsold frozen stock can be taken home. But Herlihy and others argue this is where the problem lies: you’re paying premium prices for food that might not even be fresh.
For others, it’s about visibility. “It’s really about getting the brand out there,” says Jack Brennan of Griolladh, who has expanded the toasted sandwich business he runs with Jacob Long into bricks and mortar operations. “We can’t afford to pay RTÉ to have a big television ad, so we go down to Electric Picnic. We’re just happy to be there. It gets us out to loads of customers we wouldn’t have. We’ve just opened two outlets in Cork, and we had people coming up from the weekend saying, ‘Oh, we love seeing you in Cork.’”
But not everyone’s in it for the branding. Kinara Kitchen, a fixture at Electric Picnic since 2013, operates with military precision. “We have a backhouse kitchen for catering, so we start prep on Monday, five days before,” says co-owner Seán Collender. “It needs to be a well-oiled machine, or you can run into trouble.”
Running a food stall at a festival like Electric Picnic isn’t just about showing up. It’s about long hours – 17-hour days for staff – ingredient costs, and the expense of setting up shop in the middle of a field. There’s the transportation, the refrigeration, the hire of a marquee. And then there’s the weather.
The weather is the wild card. Fixed costs remain the same, rain or shine. But a downpour can turn a profitable weekend into a loss. “It has been a mixed bag over the years,” Collender admits. “This year was nice. The main thing is no rain. When you get the rain, people don’t tend to move as much. If it’s not raining, everyone floats around a bit more. You get extra trade because people are on the move.”
So what keeps Collender coming back? “We’re touching a slightly different vein in terms of what we do in our restaurant. So that is a nice thing to do,” he says. “It’s not a branding exercise. It is something different. I think the festival things we do tie in nicely with our food offering.”
Even heavyweights like Supermacs jumped into the fray this year. Their debut at Electric Picnic was reportedly a success, especially with younger crowds.
[ Electric Picnic 2024: The weekend in picturesOpens in new window ]
It’s worth remembering, whichever stall you choose at a music festival, it’s not the trader pocketing all your hard-earned money. It’s the big promoters pulling the strings. For those eyeing a spot in 2025, the process begins in October. Start saving now – you’re going to need it.
