

Welcome to Carl’s Jr. in Ontario, your go-to destination for the juicy, charbroiled burgers and crispy hand-breaded chicken sandwiches your mouth is dreaming about. Savor our tangy, BBQ-y Western Bacon Cheeseburger, our zesty Guac Bacon Burger—or our take on the tear-inducing El Diablo. Whether you’re dining in, driving through, ordering ahead or takeout, we’re here to answer the call when cravings strike.
Fast-food chain known for its variety of piled-high burgers & meal combos, plus shakes.
Hours
| Friday | 3 AM–11 PM |
| Saturday | 6 AM–8 PM |
| Sunday | 6 AM–8 PM |
| Monday | 5 AM–12 AM |
| Tuesday | 3 AM–12 AM |
| Wednesday | 3 AM–12 AM |
| Thursday | 3 AM–12 AM |
Address and Contact Information
Address: 4555 E Jurupa St, Ontario, CA 91761
Phone: (909) 605-0506
Website: https://locations.carlsjr.com/ca/ontario/4555-e-jurupa-st
Menu Photos
Order and Reservations
Order: Order online
Photo Gallery
Related Web Results
4453 mills circle – Juicy Charbroiled Burgers in Ontario | Carl’s Jr.
Juicy Charbroiled Burgers in Ontario | Carl’s Jr.
Carl’s Jr. Locations in Ontario, California
Reviews
If you need to stop for a quick bite off the freeway this might be a good choice.
If I could give zero stars, I would. This might be the most infuriating fast food experience I’ve ever had — and that’s saying something.
I pulled into Carl’s Jr. craving something simple: chicken tenders. But surprise! “We’re out.” Fine. I pivot and ask for a crispy chicken sandwich. Guess what? Out of that too. Apparently, anything involving actual chicken was off the menu. What’s left? “Just burgers, fries, and grilled chicken,” the drive-thru voice tells me, as if I should be honored to be offered the scraps of a dying kingdom.
Feeling trapped (I was 11 miles from home and too hungry to argue), I settled for the grilled chicken sandwich and waffle fries. I say “settled” because that’s what this entire sad, limp experience turned into: a reluctant compromise served up in a greasy paper bag of regret.
But the real kicker? I get home from work — 11 miles later, mind you — open the sandwich, take one bite… and nearly lose my appetite AND faith in humanity. It didn’t taste like chicken. It didn’t even taste like food. It tasted like the dumpster grease from behind a gas station that gave up on life. The smell? A pungent, stomach-churning aroma of overused fryer oil and existential dread. Even my dog sniffed it, looked at me like I’d betrayed him, and walked away. That’s right — my dog. Who eats garbage.
And let’s talk about the service. The drive-thru employee sounded like I was interrupting her nap, rushing me through my order with the charm of a DMV agent on a bad day. Would it have been too much to mention they were closing? Or that they were out of everything resembling decent food? Or that the grilled chicken might have been marinating in despair since the Bush administration?
Carl’s Jr., if this is the “quality” you’re peddling now, you might as well shut down and save us all the disappointment. I didn’t pay for a meal — I paid for a lesson. And that lesson is: don’t expect edible food or basic courtesy from this location.
Absolutely disgraceful.