For Denver food enthusiasts, the name Biker Jim’s Gourmet Dogs conjures up images of adventurous toppings, unique sausages, and a rebellious spirit that perfectly captured the city’s evolving culinary scene. The news that Jim Pittenger, the founder of Biker Jim’s, was stepping away from the company sent ripples through the Denver community and beyond. As former Westword food critic Jason Sheehan aptly put it, reflecting on the inherent humor in the hot dog business, “I’m not in the wiener business not to have the jokes.” This sentiment perfectly encapsulates the playful yet serious approach Jim took to gourmet hot dogs, making Biker Jim’s Hot Dogs Denver a beloved institution.
My first phone call with Jim in over a decade felt like no time had passed at all. We reminisced about the early days, the wild ride of building Biker Jim’s from a simple hot dog cart to a Denver staple. It felt like just yesterday we were both navigating the Denver food scene of the early 2000s, a time when Jim was just starting to shake things up. Hearing that Jim was leaving Biker Jim’s, stepping away from the gourmet hot dog empire he built, prompted this call, a catch-up long overdue.
I was there when Biker Jim’s Hot Dogs Denver was just a dream, a cart wheeled onto the 16th Street Mall. He was a culinary pirate, introducing Denver to elk and ostrich sausages, pushing boundaries with rabbit and rattlesnake dogs. Lines stretched down the block for his cash-only, loudly proclaimed, gourmet street food. Those were indeed “pirate days” in Denver’s food scene, as Jim described them – a time for culinary outlaws challenging the stuffy perception of fine dining. Denver was striving for culinary seriousness, almost forgetting the joy of simply enjoying good food. Jim’s arrival was a necessary reminder that incredible meals could be found standing up, on a street corner.
Biker Jim’s wasn’t just about hot dogs; it was part of a street food revolution in Denver. His chrome cart became a symbol of culinary unpretentiousness, paving the way for a wave of innovative and less formal food ventures. He reminded Denver that food could be fun, adventurous, and accessible, all wrapped up in a tube of delicious meat.
a sausage in a bun with various toppings
Biker Jim’s gourmet hot dog with creative toppings, a Denver culinary staple.
But as they say, all good things must come to an end, or at least evolve. Talking about those vibrant early days is why I found myself on the phone with Jim – me in Philadelphia, him in a Lowe’s parking lot back in Denver. I needed to understand what led to his Facebook announcement, his departure from the business he poured his life into for nearly two decades. The stark reality? “Biker Jim’s is broke,” Jim confessed. “My retirement program is just fucking dead.” For seventeen years, he recounted, he meticulously honored every financial obligation. “Nobody didn’t get paid,” he emphasized, the past tense hanging heavy with the current situation. “Now? Fuuuuuck…”
The downfall, Jim explained, stemmed from a single, ill-fated business deal. A supposed lifeline offered during the darkest days of the pandemic, from someone he believed to be a trustworthy friend. What seemed like salvation in 2020, when Biker Jim’s was struggling to stay afloat amidst shutdowns and restrictions, turned into an anchor dragging the business under.
“Two thousand twenty,” he began, the year hanging in the air like a bad omen. “In 2020, we were breathing fumes.” The pandemic’s impact – shutdowns, limited capacity, deserted streets – was crushing his business. Emergency funds vanished, savings depleted. Like countless others in the restaurant industry, Jim found himself trapped in a seemingly inescapable financial crisis.
In desperation, he took a gamble, signing over Biker Jim’s to an individual who boasted of vast wealth and made grand promises. These promises, and the claimed millions, proved to be fabrications. The decline was gradual at first, then accelerated into a rapid downward spiral. Seventeen years of hard work, passion, and dedication were undone in a mere two years. The kind of collapse that makes headlines, prompts calls from old friends wanting to know, “What the fuck went wrong?”
two men posing together Anthony Bourdain and Biker Jim Pittenger, a meeting that changed Bourdain’s view of Denver’s food scene.
Despite the recent hardships, Jim retains his characteristic humor. “I had delusions of adequacy,” he chuckled. “We had a good time. I sold a lot of hot dogs.” And he did more than just sell hot dogs; he built a Denver institution. Biker Jim’s reached Coors Field and Red Rocks Amphitheater, opened a brick-and-mortar restaurant on Larimer Street, and famously won over Anthony Bourdain, playing a part in changing Bourdain’s initial less-than-enthusiastic view of Denver. Appearances on television and even a culinary showcase at the prestigious James Beard House followed. It was an extraordinary journey for a guy who started with nothing but a hot dog cart and a dream.
But the present reality is starkly different. “It isn’t the same,” Jim lamented, expressing his disappointment with the treatment of his staff, vendors, and partners 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 has left an indelible scar on the restaurant industry. For generations, its impact will be recounted in tales of businesses lost and dreams shattered. The industry is forever marked by a before and after COVID divide.
For me, Biker Jim’s Hot Dogs Denver will always be a pre-COVID story, a testament to Jim Pittenger’s vision and drive. He seized his moment, ran with it, and created something truly special, bringing joy to countless Denverites and visitors alike. Our conversation drifted back to happier times – summer days slinging dogs, adventurous weekends, culinary secrets, reindeer sausages, and that memorable encounter with Anthony Bourdain.
“More than anything, I love feeding people,” Jim stated, revealing the core of his passion. And therein lies a glimmer of hope. While the Biker Jim’s we once knew may be diminished, Jim Pittenger’s spirit remains unbroken. He is older, perhaps wiser, but still an outlaw at heart. If he built an empire from nothing once, the thought is, maybe he can do it again, returning to the streets, serving up gourmet hot dogs just like in the good old days.
Second acts are indeed challenging. Whether Denver is ready for another chapter of Biker Jim’s remains to be seen. But in the pantheon of Denver culinary history, Biker Jim Pittenger’s name deserves to be etched prominently. And many of us hope that somewhere, someday, we’ll see Jim back in action, perhaps with a new cart, a new location, or a new venture, still giving the finger to convention and serving up incredible hot dogs to the masses.
