The Denver food scene recently witnessed a significant shift as Jim Pittenger, the founder of the iconic Biker Jim’s Gourmet Dogs, announced his departure from the company he painstakingly built over nearly two decades. The news, shared via a heartfelt Facebook post on June 17th, resonated deeply with locals and food enthusiasts nationwide, prompting reflection on the legacy of Biker Jim’s and Pittenger’s indelible mark on Denver’s culinary landscape. Jason Sheehan, a former Westword food critic, captured the sentiment perfectly, acknowledging the inherent humor in the hot dog business while recognizing the profound impact Biker Jim had made.
My own history with Biker Jim, or Jim Pittenger as I knew him, stretches back to the very beginning. Before Biker Jim’s became a Denver institution, I was there, a witness to the genesis of his culinary vision. I recall vividly the debut of his first hot dog cart near Skyline Park on the 16th Street Mall. It was a disruptive moment, a culinary earthquake shaking up the city’s palate with exotic offerings like elk and ostrich sausages. I was an immediate convert, a loyal patron happily queuing for rabbit, rattlesnake, and Louisiana red hots, back in the days when transactions were cash-only, the atmosphere was boisterous, and the lines snaked down the block.
“We were such a band of pirates,” Jim reminisced during a recent call, a sentiment that perfectly encapsulates the spirit of Denver’s burgeoning food scene at the time. It was an era defined by culinary outlaws, mavericks who dared to challenge the conventional, often stuffy, perception of dining. Denver, in its pursuit of culinary credibility, seemed to have momentarily forgotten the simple joy of having fun with food. While pockets of enjoyment still existed, a pervasive seriousness threatened to stifle the very creativity that the restaurant industry, at its best, should foster.
Into this landscape rode Jim Pittenger, a culinary apostle of unconventional flavors and tube-shaped meats. His arrival in 2005 served as a vibrant reminder that exceptional meals could be enjoyed standing up, in the open air. Biker Jim was at the forefront of Denver’s street food renaissance, his gleaming chrome cart a symbol of culinary irreverence, paving the way for a wave of unique and daring food vendors who followed in his wake.
Biker Jim's Gourmet Dogs signature sausage with toppings
A Biker Jim’s Gourmet Dogs staple in Denver, known for adventurous toppings and unique sausages.
That era, that pioneering spirit, might feel like a bygone chapter now. But revisiting those early days is precisely why Jim and I connected recently – me from Philadelphia, him from a Lowe’s parking lot in Denver. I needed to understand the story behind his Facebook announcement, the circumstances that led him to walk away from Biker Jim’s Gourmet Dogs, a business he dedicated a significant portion of his life to building and cherishing. “Biker Jim’s is broke,” he confessed, the stark reality hanging heavy in the air. “My retirement plan is just fucking dead.” For seventeen years, he recounted, he maintained an impeccable record, never missing payments to vendors, landlords, or employees. “Nobody didn’t get paid,” he emphasized. “Now? Fuuuuuck…”
A single ill-fated business decision triggered this downfall – a supposed lifeline extended by a friend during the darkest days of the pandemic. Initially, it appeared to be a salvation, a buoy in a sea of financial distress. Tragically, it proved to be an anchor, dragging the business down.
“Two thousand twenty,” he uttered, the year itself evoking a visible shudder. “In 2020, we were breathing fumes.” The pandemic shutdowns, the crippling occupancy restrictions, the deserted streets – it was a perfect storm threatening to sink his business. Emergency funds evaporated, savings dwindled. Like countless others in the restaurant industry, Jim found himself trapped in a seemingly inescapable financial abyss.
In desperation, he took a gamble, entrusting Biker Jim’s to an individual who claimed vast wealth and made grand promises, both of which turned out to be fabrications. The decline was gradual at first, then accelerated into a rapid descent. Seventeen years of relentless effort, of building a brand synonymous with quality and innovation, were undone in a mere two years. It was the kind of catastrophic collapse that generates headlines, prompting concerned calls from old friends seeking to understand the unraveling.
Anthony Bourdain and Biker Jim Pittenger posing in Denver
Anthony Bourdain’s encounter with Biker Jim reportedly shifted his perspective on Denver’s culinary potential.
“I had delusions of adequacy,” Jim chuckled, a touch of gallows humor in his voice. “We had a good time. I sold a lot of hot dogs.” And indeed, the Biker Jim’s journey was nothing short of remarkable. From humble beginnings, he expanded to Coors Field and Red Rocks Amphitheater, established a brick-and-mortar restaurant on Larimer Street, and even won over Anthony Bourdain, arguably playing a role in changing the celebrity chef’s initially unfavorable view of Denver. Television appearances became frequent, culminating in a prestigious invitation to the James Beard House, where he served polenta in marrow bones to a discerning New York audience. It was an extraordinary ascent for someone who started with little more than passion, a hot dog cart, and a dream. But now, the reality is starkly different. “It isn’t the same,” Jim lamented. He expressed deep dissatisfaction with the treatment of his staff and vendors, the overall direction the business had taken. “It doesn’t even look like Jim’s anymore. So I’m like, ‘Fuck y’all. I’m outta here.'”
Reflecting on this conversation, it reinforces the profound and lasting impact of the pandemic on the restaurant industry. COVID-19 will forever be etched in the collective memory of the culinary world, a dividing line separating “before” and “after.”
For me, Biker Jim’s will always be a pre-COVID success story. Jim Pittenger will remain the embodiment of entrepreneurial spirit, a visionary who seized his moment, ran with it, and shared the exhilarating ride with everyone who loved Biker Jim’s. Our conversation drifted back to those brighter days – summer festivals, adventurous culinary experiments, reindeer dogs, and the encounter with Anthony Bourdain.
“More than anything, I love feeding people,” Jim declared, revealing the core of his motivation. And perhaps there is a glimmer of hope amidst the current situation. While the Biker Jim’s we once knew may be diminished, Jim Pittenger’s passion remains undimmed. He is older, perhaps wiser, but the outlaw spirit that defined his early days still burns brightly. Having built something extraordinary from nothing once, he believes he can do it again – returning to the streets, slinging gourmet hot dogs, just like in the good old days.
Second acts are notoriously challenging. Whether Denver is ready for another chapter of Biker Jim remains to be seen. But in the pantheon of Denver’s culinary history, Biker Jim Pittenger has earned his place. And many are hoping that someday soon, they’ll see him back where he belongs, perhaps not on Mount Rushmore, but on a street corner, serving up delicious hot dogs and a healthy dose of defiance.
