Next bowl’s on you, right Steve?
In 2009, it was not uncommon for Suffolkonians [sic?] to hike out to Hempstead for the freshest and hippest Tex-Mex chain to hit the island, nay, to hit the free world in quite some time—if not ever. Across the way from the Hofstra University campus existed Long Island’s first Chipotle.
Then one came to Deer Park.
And Hauppauge.
And so forth.
Soon enough, there were too many to count.
But the price of a burrito did not stay $6.50 for long. Those, as they say, were the days.
Brainchild Steve Ells opened the first Chipotle in a former ice cream shop nearby the University of Denver in 1993. Now, he relishes in evading blame for the massive inflation wave that has swept through town since he stepped down from the day-to-day helm.
Outside of its infectious flavor and sneakily infinite and “hackable” menu, the premier fast-food brand earned its reputation thanks to a healthier process and resulting product compared to the rest of the lot.
In turn, their founder—who stepped down as Chief Executive in 2018, and as Executive Chairman in 2020—has earned billionaire status, according to Forbes’ updated list published at the tail end of March.
Says the outlet: he might just be the unlikeliest of all.
Chipotle sits behind McDonald’s and Starbucks as the third-most valuable restaurant chain worldwide. Their stock skyrocketed on the backs of word-of-mouth notoriety before walloping their way into the public trading sector.
With personal and financial humility and facial anonymity, Ells would dodge all food service industry titan classifications for years based on how he conducted business.
A classically trained chef, Ells was quicker to cook deals than meals at a certain point. He flexed flourish from beyond the fryer by selling a large chunk of Chipotle to McDonald’s during the golden-arched giant’s “Wacky Adventures of Ronald McDonald” VHS tape with every Happy Meal heyday.
Such maneuvering helped Mickey D’s more than it helped Ells, who owned less than 4% of Chipotle by 2006, and a mere 1% a decade later—prompting Forbes to come out and fold all forecasts that Ells could one day become a 10-figure-man.
Fast-forward to today: Chipotle’s shares have risen 250% since 2020.
The company pumped out approximately $11.3 billion worth of chicken, steak and barbacoa—not to mention a rotation of limited-run specialty alternatives—in 2024 alone.
Ells handsomely benefited from a compensation plan that provided an endless stream of new shares as general revenue and stock value continued to blossom.
Translated: just when he thought he was out, he finally started to reap a heap of reverberative benefits of what he had long ago first begun to sow; not to amass a fortune, but to artistically overhaul the way restaurants prepped food and satisfied customers.
Ellis has done that, and then some. Little did he know the power his passion for peddling high-grade protein at affordable (eh, once upon a time, perhaps…) prices would take his talents some three decades and major change later.
The relatively private, first-ever “burrito billionaire” could probably walk into any of Chipotle’s 3,700 chains worldwide and thrive as an “undercover boss”—that is, go undetected regardless with or without cameras rolling.
Chipotle has more of a chance of being lampooned on “Saturday Night Live” or “South Park” than Ells himself does being name-dropped. And he clearly prefers to keep it that way.
The proof of Chipotle’s consistent stronghold on the modern palette is in the pudding; and by the pudding, we of course mean the guac. Although, let’s pray those who grew up patrons live impressively long, but never see the day their children double their meal's price when adding guacamole.
On the billionaire 1-yard-line this past July, Ells balked when The Wall Street Journal declared he had “created big things.” With corrective fervor, he bid “don’t you dare.”
“I’ve created big thing,” he quipped. “Let’s see if we can go plural.”
Ells' Manhattan-based Kernel—an all-vegan, robot service-deploying time-cruncher you’re hearing about for the first time just now—has not panned out in the way he envisioned.
Nevertheless, Ells remains as hopeful as he was way back when the accidental revolution commenced per his humble command.
Hell, even when we’re shaking our heads at paying over $20 for a burrito with guac and queso and a bottle-opened Mexican Coke, not only is there no place we’d rather be; there are a million reasons under the scorching sun we’ll cite before we ever crush Steve.