10 Jollibee Menu Items To Buy, And 4 To Skip

If you've never walked into a Jollibee, the experience can feel both familiar and entirely new. Founded in the Philippines in 1978 by Tony Tan Caktiong and his wife, Grace, Jollibee began as a modest ice cream shop before pivoting to burgers and fried chicken. The brand tailored its menu to Filipino tastes and became one of the most beloved institutions in the country, eventually overtaking McDonald's in the Philippines entirely. Today, with nearly 100 locations across the U.S., Jollibee has followed the Filipino diaspora into huge cities like LA, NYC, and Chicago, and it's always quick to win over the hearts of newcomers. 

The fast food chain's menu has a lot of usual suspects like Angus beef burgers (which are actually newer additions to Jollibee's roster), fried chicken, and French fries, but you'll also find mashed potatoes, adobo rice, and tropical fruity refreshments. Favorites like the Jolly Spaghetti — sweetened with banana ketchup and loaded with hot dog slices — reflect Filipino cuisine and celebrate the country's history and pride. With a menu so vast, it can be hard to narrow down your order, so here's a little guidance. The fast food chain rarely disappoints, but here are some of the most delicious must-order dishes that are unique to Jollibee, as well as the forgettable items that aren't compelling (or affordable) enough to earn a re-order.

This is Jollibee's signature fried chicken — breaded, deep-fried drumsticks and thighs — and it earns that signature status completely. A two-piece order should come with a thigh and a drumstick, so there's a little taste of each. The pieces are a pretty impressive size and are much bigger than the chicken tenders. The breading is so crispy and flavorful, and the chicken is just greasy enough without ever feeling like too much. I like Jollibee's fried chicken more than both KFC and Popeyes — there, I said it. It's both incredibly tender and extra crispy.

Some claim Jollibee's Chickenjoy uses a similar process to Popeyes, which does make sense given the comparable crunch. I personally think that Jollibee blows the Southern-style chain out of the water. The marinade remains a mystery but it allegedly uses cornstarch and potato starch to help achieve that ultra-crispy breading. A two-piece order at my nearest Jollibee comes with a biscuit and one choice of side: mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, adobo rice, French fries, or an extra biscuit if one just isn't enough. It's hard to deny that combo deal with chicken this drool-worthy.

The burger was also a huge surprise. I was fully planning on scrapping it, assuming the fried chicken and signature sides would just overshadow everything else on the menu, but I was hugely mistaken. This might be one of the best fast food burgers out there, and it makes a lot of sense given Jollibee's recent acquisition of Smashburger — a great business move because it shows in every bite.

The smash burger, made with 100% Angus beef, is perfectly seared to create a crispy-edged patty. Layers of melty cheese practically become one with the meat, which is stacked with thick-cut sour pickles and thinly sliced red onions. I put a questionable amount of red onions on anything between two pieces of bread, but fast food joints aren't usually on the same wavelength. Thankfully, Jollibee sees me. The buttery, toasted bun holds all the goodness together, with a lot of help from the gooey American cheese. 

While I vote to dismiss the relatively new chicken tenders at Jollibee, it's not because they're not delicious; they just don't compare to Chickenjoy, and they're notably pricey when compared to other Jollibee specials. The breading is thin but surprisingly crispy, the chicken breast is light and moist, and the signature tender sauce is tangy and sweet. There are a handful of other dipping options like pineapple barbecue, honey mustard, creamy sriracha, ranch, or gravy, but I can't imagine anything better than the tender sauce.

Despite the high praise, I'd skip the tenders due to the price and portions. Unlike the Chickenjoy, the tenders don't come with any sides, and we all know how important Jollibee sides are to the meal. For just $2 more, the smallest Chickenjoy order comes with a biscuit and another side. Between those two chicken options, there is simply no competition. The tenders aren't a bad order in isolation, but they're definitely outranked by Jollibee's original chicken dishes. 

The spicy chicken sandwich truly impressed me. Not that it's even comparable; but after having a McChicken recently, Jollibee's fried chicken sandwich absolutely blew me away — especially for the price. The huge, thick piece of chicken is so juicy, and the breading is even crunchier than what's on the drumsticks. The brioche bun also elevates everything: it's fluffy, doused with an egg wash, and just toasted enough to give it a thin outer crust to contrast the super fluffy center. You won't be served any smashed or skimpy buns at Jollibee, and it's a far cry from the flat, packaged buns you'd grab at the grocery store.

I'm also shocked to bite into an actual vegetable at any fast food restaurant. Having worked in the industry, I know how quickly produce can go from fresh to sad and limp so the super fresh jalapeño slices were the best surprise. Thick slices of fresh jalapeños with sriracha mayo, and the crispiest, juiciest piece of chicken? This is like a dream sandwich, and it happens to cost less than six bucks.

I could eat these little hand pies every day, especially the ube-flavored one. At just a few dollars, the ube snack pie is one of the best sweets on the entire menu and one of the most pleasant surprises of the whole tasting. The pie pastry is deep-fried, resulting in an incredibly crispy finish that crumbles and shatters in the best possible way, almost like a tempura breading mixed with an airy funnel cake.

Jollibee has figured out the perfect pie filling. It's thinner than you might expect, closer to a smooth, creamy custard than a dense paste. It's nutty, sweet, and unmistakably ube — that deep purple, earthy yam flavor. Ube isn't the easiest ingredient to bake with, which makes pulling it off in a fast food format even more impressive. Grab two ube pies next time you're at Jollibee; one to eat immediately and one for the ride home.

The drink menu is yet another place where Jollibee outshines American fast food chains. In addition to the standard soda options, it offers an assortment of blended freezes and refreshers that feel like a legitimate reason to visit on their own. The Coconut Dream Freeze sits at the top of that category, though it comes with a fair warning: Drinking it may result in a brain freeze and a sugar rush simultaneously.

Yes, it is ultra sweet, but there's something about the pulverized, icy consistency that dials it back with each sip. Sometimes coconut-flavored beverages taste like artificial rum-adjacent flavoring, but in this freeze, you can actually taste real notes of coconut. It's a bit nutty, which also helps balance the heavy sweetness. Jollibee's specialty drinks are one of the many things that set it apart from American fast food chains, and for just $1, you can add boba or mango jelly.

Usually, I like guava, but this Jollibee Guava Quencher tasted a bit syrupy and more unnatural than actually fruity. It falls noticeably flat compared to the Freezes. There's also a guava Freeze version, which I actually liked better, but even then, the guava flavor reads as slightly processed in a way that the coconut and strawberry freezes don't. Some fans absolutely love this drink, and if you're a devoted guava fan, it might be worth a try. But as a refresher, it doesn't hit the same way.

It's not as refreshing as it should be and isn't quite as flavorful as you'd hope. When the Strawberry Bliss Freeze and the Coconut Dream Freeze are both on the menu for just $1 more, the choice becomes obvious. Skip the Quencher and upgrade to a Freeze.

It's hard to say anything bad about the Coconut Dream Freeze, but this may actually be the better of the two. The coconut leans more tropical and dessert-centric; it feels like a special beachside treat. The Strawberry Bliss Freeze is much more refreshing and fruit-forward. It's still sweet, but only as sweet as fresh, ripe strawberries actually need to be. While there is obviously added sugar, it doesn't taste much like it — at least not in an overpowering way.

There are real bits of strawberries blended throughout, which is a huge win for any mass-produced fast food beverage and something you genuinely don't expect to find. It's not creamy the way the coconut is; it's more like a perfectly smooth, fruit-forward sip that lands somewhere between a Freeze and a smoothie. It's priced at well under $10, and boba and mango jelly can be added to it, making it absolutely worth every penny. If the coconut one is dessert, this one is for refreshment, and sometimes that's exactly what you need after a salty meal.

Introducing the pride and joy of Jollibee: the Jolly Spaghetti. This is not American-Italian spaghetti in any way, so don't come in expecting a savory, basil-forward red sauce over al dente noodles. Jollibee's spaghetti is something else entirely, thanks to the banana ketchup. During WWII, there was a tomato shortage in the Philippines, forcing people to turn to banana ketchup. The result was a boldly sweet flavor profile that became embedded in Filipino cooking. 

Jollibee leans into that tradition fully, pairing the sweet banana ketchup-based sauce with super soft spaghetti and little sliced smoky hot dogs, finished with a heavy hand of shredded cheese. It's also one of the most customizable items on the menu — regulars each have their own go-to order. Some like it extra cheesy; some like it spicy. Either way, the spaghetti is always tender and the sauce is always sweet. Jollibee also offers a jumbo family size for around $20, which serves three to five people, but no one will make you share.

This is a tasty, classic mac and cheese, don't get me wrong, but if you're going to choose one pasta dish at Jollibee, you have to go with the spaghetti. The baked cheddar mac n cheese has a thick, creamy cheese sauce akin to Velveeta, and it's not light by any means. If super ooey-gooey, American cheese-style mac is your thing, Jollibee might have what you're looking for. Personally, I find the sauce is a bit too thick, and it started to look less and less appealing as I mixed it up in the container.

I'm sure I'd happily eat a bowl of this cheesy baked mac in the right context, but the right context is not at Jollibee, where the Jolly Spaghetti exists on the same menu for a similar price. This mac and cheese tastes like it could come from anywhere, and it really doesn't offer anything special.

I didn't know rice could be this life-changing until this visit, and I didn't know I could savor rice this much. This was one of the biggest surprises of the entire meal. I fully expected it to be a filler side that I'd pick at between bites of chicken, but instead it became something I actively prioritized on the tray. It might not look like much, but it is so packed with flavor.

Adobo, a Filipino cooking staple, combines a savory blend of soy sauce, vinegar, garlic, and spices. The rice absorbs these flavors well for a deeply flavorful result. There are also little pieces of meat throughout, so every bite is meaty and flavorful rather than purely starchy. The rice itself is nice and plump, and the portion size is impressive for under $5.

This is the side that sneaks up on you. Order it without hesitation, and don't be surprised when it disappears first.

Jollibee ranked high in my fast food mashed potato ranking. After this visit, I completely stand by that. It drops a large scoop of thick, smooth mashed potatoes into a pool of gravy, resulting in a moat-like fortress protecting the potatoes, which is as delightful as it sounds. The potatoes are thoroughly blended until they reach the ideal consistency, but there are still chunks of red potato skin throughout, adding a welcome texture to an otherwise uniform quality.

The gravy is a tad sweet (or maybe it's the potatoes themselves), but either way, it's delicious. Jollibee offers two different potato-centric sides, and the mashed version is the one worth your money. The small side only costs a few dollars, and it pairs well with the Chickenjoy.

These fries are thin, super greasy, and salty. They're incredibly similar to McDonald's fries, which some deem as the best of all the fast food chains. But Jollibee's Crispy Fries are just a bit too greasy for my liking and leave an oily mouthfeel after each bite. Jollibee is generous with the portion, piling fries into the bag well past the small vessel's top, but quantity doesn't fix the issue.

To be clear, the fries are fine to grab between bites of fried chicken. But when the menu is full of sides that genuinely distinguish themselves from anything you'd find at a standard American fast food chain, the fries are a snooze. They're the least interesting option, and there are cheaper options, like the mashed potatoes and biscuits, that are more worth buying. The adobo rice is $1.50 more and completely unforgettable. The fries simply cannot compete, and with those alternatives on the menu, there's no good reason to order them.

I didn't know I would feel this strongly about a modest little fast food biscuit, but here I am. The biscuits are around $1 each, and they're just as buttery and flaky as you'd hope for. It's genuinely hard to advise against them, given both the price and the quality, so I won't even try.

The biscuit is so moist that it almost tastes like it has been submerged in butter — and that is not a complaint. I had the second half later, and didn't bother reheating it; it was just as enjoyable cold as it was fresh. It didn't get stale or dry whatsoever. Popeyes' biscuits are bigger, sure, but bigger doesn't mean better; in fact, I find them a little dense and dry by comparison. Jollibee's biscuits are supple, easy to pull apart, and have a balanced flavor.

For this tasting, I pulled across the menu, selecting some old favorites I already knew I loved and wanted to revisit, as well as popular menu staples I had somehow never gotten around to trying — items that regulars swear by and newcomers always seem to gravitate toward. The best dishes were unique, bold in flavor, and offered a good portion for the price. The ones I said were skipping weren't flavorful (or, in the case of the Guava Quencher, tasted artificial), lacked value, or were less exciting overall.

Although I had my assumptions going in, a few of the dishes I was most prepared to dismiss ended up leaving a lasting impression. The adobo rice, which I'd frankly expected to be an afterthought, turned out to be one of the most quietly impressive things on the table, and the ube pie was astonishingly good, considering I usually eschew fast food dessert items.