The Denver food scene recently saw a significant shift as Jim Pittenger, the founder of Biker Jim’s Gourmet Dogs, announced his departure from the company. For many in Denver and beyond, the name “Biker Jims Denver” is synonymous with innovative and adventurous hot dogs. This news, shared on Facebook on June 17th, marks the end of an era for a brand that significantly shaped Denver’s culinary landscape. Reflecting on this moment, former Westword food critic Jason Sheehan shared a sentiment that captures the essence of Biker Jim’s – a playful approach to the serious business of food. “I’m not in the wiener business not to have the jokes,” Sheehan remarked, highlighting the fun and irreverence that was always part of the Biker Jim’s experience.
My own history with Biker Jim dates back to the very beginning, almost fifteen years ago. It feels like only yesterday when I was witnessing the genesis of what would become a Denver institution. Jim rolled out his first hot dog cart near Skyline Park on the 16th Street Mall, immediately shaking up the city’s palate with exotic offerings like elk and ostrich sausages. As a regular, I eagerly devoured rabbit and rattlesnake dogs, and the classic Louisiana red hots, back when Biker Jim’s was a cash-only operation, buzzing with energy and serving lines that stretched down the block.
The Rise of Biker Jim’s in Denver
“We were such a band of pirates,” Jim reminisced, perfectly encapsulating the spirit of those early days. Denver’s food scene at that time was ripe for disruption, craving the kind of rebellious energy that outlaws and unconventional thinkers bring. These were individuals who dared to challenge the rigid notion that fine dining and casual eating had to exist in separate realms. Around twenty years ago, Denver was striving for culinary seriousness, almost to a fault, forgetting the simple joy of having fun with food. While pockets of enjoyment existed, a prevailing seriousness overshadowed the wild, creative talent that the restaurant industry, at its best, should nurture.
Jim Pittenger emerged as a culinary apostle of this outlaw sensibility, championing tube-shaped meats and reminding everyone that some of the most memorable meals are enjoyed standing up, right on the street. His arrival in 2005 marked a street food awakening in Denver. His gleaming chrome hot dog cart became a symbol of unpretentious dining, paving the way for a wave of unique and quirky food vendors who followed in his wake.
Biker Jim’s dogs are a culinary staple in Denver.
Molly Martin
Biker Jim and Anthony Bourdain: A Turning Point
That era, that freewheeling spirit, feels like a bygone time. Speaking with Jim recently, from my desk in Philadelphia to his location in a Denver Lowe’s parking lot, I wanted to understand what happened. What went wrong at Biker Jim’s Gourmet Dogs that led to his Facebook announcement, signaling his departure from a business he dedicated nearly two decades to building? “Biker Jim’s is broke,” he stated plainly. “My retirement program is just fucking dead.” He recounted seventeen years of unwavering commitment, never missing payments to vendors, rent, or payroll. “Nobody didn’t get paid,” he emphasized. “Now? Fuuuuuck…”
A single ill-fated business deal is at the heart of this downturn. During the darkest days of the pandemic, a supposed lifeline from a trusted friend turned into an anchor. What initially appeared as salvation became the very weight dragging him down.
The Pandemic and a Business Deal Gone Wrong
“Two thousand twenty,” he began, the year hanging heavy with negative connotations. “In 2020, we were breathing fumes.” The pandemic shutdowns, occupancy restrictions, and deserted streets were suffocating his business. Emergency funds and personal savings were depleted. Like countless others in the restaurant industry, Jim found himself in a seemingly inescapable predicament.
He took a gamble, entrusting Biker Jim’s to an individual who boasted of wealth and made grand promises, none of which materialized. The decline was gradual at first, then accelerated rapidly. Seventeen years of hard work were effectively undermined in a mere two years. The downfall was dramatic, the kind that grabs headlines and prompts concerned calls from long-time friends trying to piece together what went wrong.
Anthony Bourdain and Biker Jim Pittenger, a meeting that changed Bourdain's view of Denver's food scene. Anthony Bourdain was famously not a fan of Denver until a trip during which he met Biker Jim.
Courtesy Biker Jim
Leaving Biker Jim’s, But Not the Dream
“I had delusions of adequacy,” Jim joked, with a touch of irony. “We had a good time. I sold a lot of hot dogs.” His journey included milestones like securing locations at Coors Field and Red Rocks Amphitheatre, opening a brick-and-mortar restaurant on Larimer Street, and famously feeding Anthony Bourdain – a pivotal moment that likely shifted Bourdain’s perception of Denver. Numerous television appearances and even a showcase at the James Beard House, serving polenta in marrow bones to culinary elites, marked an extraordinary trajectory for someone who started with just a hot dog cart and a vision. But now, “It isn’t the same,” Jim admitted, expressing dissatisfaction with the treatment of his staff and vendors under the new management. “It doesn’t even look like Jim’s anymore. So I’m like, ‘Fuck y’all. I’m outta here.'”
The pandemic’s long shadow continues to loom over the restaurant industry. It’s created a lasting divide, separating the pre-COVID era from the altered landscape that followed. Biker Jim’s, in many ways, represents a pre-COVID success story. Jim himself embodies the spirit of seizing opportunity, driving forward with passion and bringing everyone along for a thrilling ride. Our conversation drifted back to those brighter times – summer days, adventurous weekends, shared recipes, reindeer dogs, and memories of Anthony Bourdain.
“More than anything, I love feeding people,” Jim confessed. The encouraging aspect of this story is that Jim Pittenger’s passion for food is far from extinguished. While the Biker Jim’s of the past may be a shadow of its former self, Jim is not. He’s gained experience, and that outlaw spirit still burns brightly. He believes that if he built something remarkable from scratch once, he can do it again – perhaps returning to the streets, serving up hot dogs, just like in the golden days.
Second acts are indeed challenging. Whether Denver is ready for another chapter like this remains to be seen, but there’s a strong desire to believe it is. In the pantheon of Denver’s culinary history, Biker Jim’s deserves a prominent place. And many hope that somewhere in the city’s future, we might once again see Jim Pittenger, perhaps in a parking lot, greeting everyone with his signature irreverence, while serving up exceptional hot dogs to a new generation of fans.
