Carl's Jr. reveals opening date for second UK site in Swansea
It is known for its "iconic charbroiled burgers," including the Famous Star With Cheese and Western Bacon Cheeseburger.
Carl's Jr. opened its first-ever UK store in Cardiff on April 3, 2025.
Carl's Jr. opened its first-ever UK restaurant in Cardiff on April 3. (Image: Carl's Jr./Boparan Restaurant Group)
Carl's Jr. reveals opening date of second UK store in South Wales
Now, Carl's Jr. is set to open its second UK store in Swansea.
The restaurant will be located at 40 Wind Street, Swansea, SA1 1EE, and will officially open its doors to the public on September 4, 2025.
The new Carl's Jr. restaurant will offer seating for over 40 guests and will create around 25 new jobs.
Boparan Restaurant Group (BRG) Country Manager for Carl's Jr. UK, David Moffat, said: 'After an incredible response in Cardiff, we're thrilled to be opening in Swansea.
'This next opening continues our mission to bring the true Carl's Jr. experience to the UK — bold flavour, great service, and quality ingredients. We can't wait to welcome the Swansea community.'
Free burgers and merchandise on opening day
Carl's Jr. will be giving away free burgers and merchandise on the opening day of its Swansea restaurant (September 4).
The first 100 customers through the door will receive a free burger and exclusive Carl's Jr. merchandise (including its fan favourite hoodies).
Carl's Jr. will be giving away free burgers and merchandise on the opening day of its Swansea restaurant. (Image: Carl's Jr./Boparan Restaurant Group) It will also run a "Find the Star" competition to mark the opening of the new restaurant.
Branded stars with a 'You've Won a Free Burger!' message will be hidden in popular spots around Wind Street.
Lucky finders can bring their star into Carl's Jr. (Swansea) during opening week to redeem a free Famous Star Burger.
"Better than any other fast food chain" - What customers think of Carl's Jr.
Carl's Jr. comes highly recommended by customers, with Reddit users describing it as the "GOAT" (greatest of all time).
The UK's favourite takeaways
A third user posted: "As an Australian, Carl's Jr is goat purely cause they're the only place that still has soda refills."
While another person added: "Carl's Jr. kept me alive for years and I will fight you to the death over it."
The Cardiff store has also received rave reviews since opening in April, boasting a 4.3 star rating on Google from 1,885 reviews.
One customer, writing a review on Google, described Carl's Jr. (Cardiff) as "BANGING" and "better than McDonald's or any other fast food chain in the UK".
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Another customer added: "I have to say the food was great, I tried my very best but it defeated me. You are going to be full leaving here no doubt.
"All the staff were fantastic, above and beyond good.
"Callum was particularly helpful, it was our first visit so we needed a bit of help. Callum talked us through the choices and the milkshake options. The milkshakes are outstanding btw!"
"Overall, an amazing visit, will definitely return."
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New Statesman
5 hours ago
- New Statesman
Berlin's dark past and me
The platform was empty. It was a serene scene: the rain had stopped and the air smelled green, the trees showering droplets each time the wind blew. My mother and I carefully stepped around the puddles as we read the plaques on the very edge of the platform. 18.10.1941 / 1251 Juden / Berlin – Lodz. 29.11.1942 / 1000 Juden / Berlin – Auschwitz. 2.2.1945 / 88 Juden / Berlin – Theresienstadt. The Gleis 17 (Platform 17) memorial at Grunewald station on the western outskirts of Berlin commemorates the 50,000 Jews who were deported from the city to concentration camps by the Nazis. There are 186 steel plaques in total, in chronological order, each detailing the number of deportees and where they went. Vegetation has been left to grow around the platform and over the train tracks, 'a symbol that no train will ever leave the station at this track again', according to the official Berlin tourist website. Were we tourists? I wasn't sure. I paused at one plaque in particular: 5.9.1942 / 790 Juden / Berlin – Riga. My great-grandmother, Ryfka, was one of the 790 Jews deported to Riga on 5 September 1942. She was murdered three days later. Her husband, Max, had been arrested and taken as a labourer to the Siedlce ghetto the previous year. In 1942 he was shot and thrown into a mass grave. When I told people we were taking a family trip to Berlin, many brought up Jesse Eisenberg's 2024 film A Real Pain (released January 2025 in the UK), in which Eisenberg and Kieran Culkin play mismatched cousins on a tour of Poland, confronting the inherited trauma of their grandmother's Holocaust survival story. But when we first started planning our trip six years ago, that wasn't the idea at all. It wasn't supposed to be about Max and Ryfka. It was about their daughter, my grandmother, Mirjam, and my grandfather, Ali, whom we called Opa. Opa's ancestry enabled us to claim German citizenship. My mother, sister and I started this process in 2017 without really thinking about it. The UK had voted to leave the EU, and Brits with relatives from all over were looking for ways to retain an EU passport. The Global Citizenship Observatory estimates that 90,000 Brits have acquired a second passport from an EU country since 2016, not counting those eligible for Irish citizenship. Article 116(2) of the German Constitution states: 'Persons who surrendered, lost or were denied German citizenship between 30 January 1933 and 8 May 1945 due to persecution on political, racial or religious grounds are entitled to naturalisation.' The same applies to their descendants. Mirjam died in 1990, before I was born, and Opa in 2003 – both British and only British citizens. But we had his voided German passport, his birth certificate, the notice of statelessness he'd received when he came to England in 1936. It took two years, but on 3 June 2019, the three of us attended the embassy in Belgravia and were solemnly dubbed citizens of Germany. We received our passports a few weeks later. Subscribe to The New Statesman today from only £8.99 per month Subscribe My mother wanted to celebrate with a trip to Berlin – the city where her parents grew up, and which my sister and I had never visited. Five years later than planned, thanks to Covid travel bans, we made it, honouring Opa by sweeping through immigration on the passports he had posthumously gifted us. I was prepared for the attempts at schoolgirl German, the arguments over bus timetables, itineraries and whether or not it was acceptable to fare-dodge on the U-Bahn. What I wasn't prepared for was being struck down by tears on a suburban street, faced with the reality of how exactly I had come to be there and what my presence meant. Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, Berlin. Photo by Jon Arnold Images Ltd My grandfather's family made it out of Nazi Germany. So did my grandmother and her siblings. Her parents did not. Max and Ryfka were typical middle-class Berliners, owners of a profitable cigarette factory. They had three children: Fanny, Mirjam and Harry. The family lived in a five-storey apartment block with a dramatic art nouveau facade – an open-mouthed deity staring down as residents came and went – on Thomasiusstrasse, on the edge of the Tiergarten city park. Around the corner, in the same affluent neighbourhood, lived the boy who would become my grandfather, Ali. They used to play together as children. Two decades, multiple emigrations and an internment in Canada later, Ali married Mirjam. My mother was born two years later. I know all this thanks to her, her sister and their cousins. A few years before the Brexit vote, they had set out to consolidate everything we know about the family – sifting through documents, photos and letters, sharing recollections of their parents, writing down everything so the story would not be forgotten. I know, for example, that the basement of the house in Thomasiusstrasse was used for meetings of their Zionist youth movement long before emigration became an urgent issue. I know when and how the siblings fled Berlin to what was then British-occupied Palestine: Fanny going first to Denmark in July 1937, then to Palestine in February 1939, where she worked at the first haute couture fashion house in Israel. Mirjam left in April 1936 via a boat from Italy. She studied horticulture before eventually marrying Ali in 1951 and moving to England. Harry arrived in Palestine on 1 September 1937, his 16th birthday. And I know, from the letters we have, how often and how seriously all three urged their parents to sell the cigarette factory and leave Berlin, before it was too late. On the pavement outside the apartment block on Thomasiusstrasse, set into the cobblestones, gleamed the Stolpersteine. Any visitor to Berlin will find the streets scattered with these 'stumbling stones', small brass plates, each one a memorial to a victim of the Nazis who lived at that address: their name, year of birth, where and when they were killed. The commemorative art project, begun in 1992 by artist Gunter Demnig, has spread across Europe: there now are more than 116,000 stones, in 31 countries. The Stolpersteine for Max and Ryfka were laid in August 2014. My mother and her family attended; a clarinettist played klezmer music. There are eight stones for that single apartment block. The day before we visited, my mother had booked us on a tour of the Jewish quarter. Our guide told us that the aim of the Stolpersteine initiative was to compel confrontation and reflection, causing passers-by to stumble, both figuratively and physically, over this dark period of European history. Berlin is forthright about confronting its past – using art and architecture in innovative ways to do so. At the Holocaust memorial by the Brandenburg Gate, visitors get lost in an unnerving maze of concrete slabs. At the entrance to the Jewish Museum, the floors slope and the walls are set at odd angles, making the space difficult to navigate with confidence. The 'Garden of Exile' just outside the museum, designed by the Polish-American architect Daniel Libeskind to capture the disorientation of the refugee experience, is similarly slanted and boxed in by columns. The day we visited, it was raining again, the uneven cobbles slick and treacherous. The garden was empty. I slipped – and through my perhaps disproportionate tears realised there was a lot more to my new German passport than I had imagined. Everyone knows about the Holocaust. Six million Jews, more than a quarter of a million Gypsies, millions more Poles, Soviets, homosexuals and people with disabilities, systematically exterminated at death camps. I had always known that my family was in some way linked to it all, that the Holocaust was why we were in Britain in the first place, that I wouldn't be here were it not for my maternal grandparents being 'denied German citizenship… due to persecution on political, racial or religious grounds'. Hundreds of thousands of Jews fled the Nazis. Every Jewish family I know has a story: of how their ancestors escaped, and what happened to the ones who didn't. I knew long before I visited Berlin that there is nothing special about my family's history. But I had always seen it as just that: history. The Jewish Museum's core exhibition charts the history of Jews in Germany from medieval times to the present day. The final section looks at descendants of Holocaust victims and refugees who chose to restore their German citizenship – and why they made that decision. Why had I done it? To get an EU passport after Brexit. To make it easier to work abroad one day. To give my future children the option to live anywhere in Europe. To skip the queues at immigration. All valid reasons. And all, suddenly, entirely inconsequential Staring at the memorial plaques on Platform 17, sitting on the steps of the apartment block on Thomasiusstrasse, losing my footing in the Garden of Exile, I felt myself slot into the narrative, the next chapter of a story that is both unfathomable and at the same time utterly unexceptional. Opa died when I was 12. He was so proud of being British. I never asked him how he would feel about us using the trauma of his past to become German for the sake of convenience. I'd always thought he'd like the idea of us reclaiming his rightful heritage, but in Berlin it seemed less clear. But I do think he would have liked the fact that we were all there in Berlin, on the streets where he and his wife grew up, laughing and crying together, realising our mother-and-daughters getaway had ended up a lot like Eisenberg's A Real Pain after all. The three of us lost in reverie outside the apartment block, picturing my grandmother coming and going. A sign by the door was engraved in looping gothic script. It looked like a memorial plaque. We struggled to decipher first the letters, then the German. Eventually we resorted to Google Translate, and discovered in lieu of the profound message we had expected, a polite request for guests to please wipe their feet. [See also: Rachel Reeves' 'impossible trilemma'] Related
Reuters
5 hours ago
- Reuters
Owner of landmark Manhattan skyscraper closes on $1.3 billion loan
Aug 6 (Reuters) - New York City property developer The Durst Organization sealed one of 2025's largest Manhattan office loans for a landmark Times Square skyscraper on Wednesday, according to Rosenberg + Estis, the law firm that represented the developer. The family-run property owner closed a $1.3 billion commercial mortgage-backed security on One Five One, a 48-story, Class A office building formerly known as 4 Times Square. The proceeds will go towards funding tenant improvements and capital expenditures, among other uses, according to Rosenberg + Estis. In the years following the COVID-19 pandemic, which wrought devastation on the U.S. office market, The Durst Organization has brought a diverse range of major new tenants to the building, including social media giant TikTok and financial services firm Nasdaq. One Five One was designed by legendary architect Frank Gehry and was previously home to publisher Conde Nast until 2014, and international law firm Skadden Arps until 2020. Wells Fargo (WFC.N), opens new tab, JPMorgan (JPM.N), opens new tab and Bank of America (BAC.N), opens new tab co-originated the $1.3 billion CMBS. The building was previously financed by a $650 million CMBS and a $900 refinancing provided in 2019 by JPMorgan and Wells Fargo. Rosenberg + Estis called the immense package a major milestone for the New York office market's recovery. "This deal sold the bonds very quickly. It pre-sold, basically," said Eric Orenstein, a member of Rosenberg + Estis's transactions team. Orenstein said the $1.3 billion ultimately funded was well above the amount originally sought by The Durst Organization. "There is tremendous demand for class A assets for well-known sponsors that are well-respected in the community," he added. "It's a good sign for the market generally." The $1.3 billion loan carries a 5.865% interest rate and matures on August 6, 2030. The financing arrangement was based on an estimated property valuation of $2.3 billion and a loan-to-value ratio of 56.5%. The Durst Organization did not immediately return a request for comment. Wells Fargo declined to comment. JPMorgan and Bank of America also did not immediately return requests for comment.
Edinburgh Live
10 hours ago
- Edinburgh Live
Mum and daughter travel 10,000 miles for Edinburgh Tattoo but are left in disbelief
Our community members are treated to special offers, promotions and adverts from us and our partners. You can check out at any time. More info An Australian mother and daughter who travelled over 10,000 miles for the Edinburgh Tattoo were left 'in disbelief' after it was cancelled. Cynarra Baker and her mother Sharon flew from Newcastle, in New South Wales, starting their journey on July 24. The pair stopped off in Dubai, before a mini-holiday in Paris and then on to the capital - with the total flight time adding up to almost 24 hours. The Baker family first dreamed of coming to the Edinburgh Tattoo after Cynarra's grandmother, Flo, told her she would love to come - but they needed a few years to save. While Flo passed away in 1997, the Bakers never given up on her dream of coming to the capital for the annual extravaganza. Almost 30 years later, Sharon and Cynarra finally arrived in Edinburgh. They had travelled for 13 hours and 45 minutes from Sydney to Dubai, with a seven hour journey onto France - before another two hour flight to Edinburgh. Cynarra, who has two children herself, said they were in 'utter disbelief' after getting the update on the morning of the Tattoo. They were staying at the Murrayfield Hotel the night before the show, which they had tickets for on August 4. Cynarra, who retired from the Airforce in 2016 and has worked as a carer since, said she couldn't sleep with excitement - buzzing with anticipation. She woke up and checked her emails, to find out that Storm Floris meant the performance wouldn't be happening. The Bakers fly back to Australia on Sunday, August 10, and admitted that any tickets available during the rest of their time in Scotland would be far too expensive - and scupper the rest of their plans. After checking online Cynarra found tickets for around £650 each - and knew that 'wasn't going to happen'. Sign up for Edinburgh Live newsletters for more headlines straight to your inbox Instead of getting ready and heading out to the Tattoo on Monday, the pair hunkered down with a bottle of wine and some Netflix while avoiding the storm. Now, they're up in Inverness 'learning about the Highlander way of life' - which is perfect for two 'massive Outlander fans'. After they were contacted by Edinburgh Live, a spokesperson for the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo confirmed they would like to speak with Cynarra and Sharon to explore options of 'how to make their dream of seeing the Tattoo come true'. The Tattoo's CEO Jason Barnett admitted the Bakers tale was 'especially gut-wrenching' and he 'shared their disappointment'. We spoke with Cynarra after the Monday nights cancellation, who told us: "When I was a teenager I asked my grandmother if she wanted to come to the Edinburgh Tattoo at the castle in Scotland. "My nana's response was 'oh my, I'd love to go with you'. I told her to give me a few years to save, once I have a full time job, and we'll go. "I joined the Royal Australian Airforce in 1996 and my grandmother passed in 1997. But that dream never left me. "Life happened, and mum said she really wanted to come to the tattoo with me as as well. But my dad would never leave Australia for a holiday." After Cynarra's father passed away in December 2023, she suggested to her mum that the pair go together. They booked the trip in February, and spent months looking forward to it. Arriving from a stop off in Paris on August 2, the duo were 'so excited' to be heading to the Tattoo on August 4. By the time they were in Scotland, an amber weather warning for Storm Floris had been issued. (Image: Supplied) Cynarra recalled: "Mum and I were staying at Murrayfield Hotel. I had a terrible sleep so excited to be going to the Tattoo the next night and we had booked a tour with Rabbies departing at 8.15am. "I got up and I checked my emails to check the departure time as we had to check in 30mins before departure to find an email saying the tour for the day had been cancelled as well as the Tattoo because of Storm Floris. It's uncanny they named the storm Floris as my grandmothers nickname was Flo. "I laid in disbelief and asked my mum if she was awake. I then read the email out to my mum, both of us were just silent. Mum just said 's**t'. Well I'm staying in bed then. I emailed our travel agent in Australia. "He was gutted. I checked tickets for the next night all that was available was £650 each tickets so about £1400 each so we knew it wasn't going to happen. "Both mum and I sat in our room absolutely in disbelief. What are odds of this happening." The duo allowed themselves a bit of time to be disappointed by the news, before continuing on with their holiday. They told us: "We had a nice breakfast at Murrayfield and watched Netflix all day, purchased a bottle of wine and went to bed. Now we're looking forward to going to Inverness!" Join Edinburgh Live's Whatsapp Community here and get the latest news sent straight to your messages While the news was 'devastating' for the Bakers, they had other plans while here in Scotland. The pair got hire car and drove to Corriefodly Holiday Park, planning to do day trips to various spots. As for returning to the city another year, and a second go at the Tattoo, Cynarra isn't so sure. She added: "Mum says definitely no as she is 70-years-old. For me I'm not sure, as I love this place it feels like home to me." The family are heading up north to 'learn more about the history of Scotland', with Cynarra looking forward to standing 'where the Highlander way of life changed'. She added: "I am a huge Outlander fan, and learning about he history of Scotland battle of Culloden Field is a must experience for me. "Just to stand where the highlander way of life changed will be an experience that needs to be felt. We might nip over to Aberdeen as well." Jason Barrett, CEO at The Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo, said "Hearing that Cynarra and Sharon have travelled from as far as Australia and won't be able to see the Show as a result of our cancellation is especially gut-wrenching and I share their disappointment. "While we can't control the weather, we are exploring options as to how we can make their dream of seeing the Tattoo come true."
