Hawaii Malasadas Steal The Spotlight On National Donut Day

National Donut Day is here, but in Hawaii, it barely matters. That’s because we’ve had our version—malasadas—for generations. You won’t find them stacked behind glass or boxed cold. Here, they’re dropped into the fryer only after you order, then handed over still warm, sugar melting on your fingers.

A different kind of donut.

National Donut Day arrives on June 6, and across the mainland, bakeries and chains will sell everything from maple bacon long johns to cold-case crullers. But in Hawaii, the celebration takes a different shape—round, fluffy, and without that hole.

This is malasada country, and it has been since 1878. The tradition started in Portugal and came to the islands when Portuguese immigrants from the Azores and Madeira began arriving to work on sugar plantations.

While the mainland celebrates with donuts of every shape and flavor, Hawaii already knows its favorite. These aren’t just snacks—they’re part of the vacation memory. Even for those who live here, there’s something almost poetic about driving past a place where the malasadas are still hot from the fryer.

Straight from the fryer at Leonard’s.

On a recent return to Leonard’s Bakery, we found the scene much the same as ever: a short line out the door, staff calling out orders, and the soft, steady hum of the kitchen at work. There’s no display case here. You don’t pick from a tray of pre-made sweets. Instead, you place your order, then wait outside while the team drops fresh malasadas into the fryer. Ten minutes later, the box is hot in your hands, and the sugar is melting onto your fingers.

This isn’t an accident. Leonard’s has been serving malasadas hot and fresh since 1952, and even a temporary fryer failure in 2022 couldn’t dampen demand. Equipment was quickly repaired, and within days, regulars were back for their fix.

One reader recalled: “My first Leonard’s malasada was in the 1950s, when I was a student at ‘Iolani School. Dad knew about Leonard’s and introduced me to that great ono-licious Portuguese doughnut.” Another shared: “I sat down on the curb like a child and put my face in one. Nothing is as sensual as a Leonard’s malasada.” A third said: “It wouldn’t be a fulfilled trip without multiple trips to Leonard’s.”

What makes malasadas Hawaii’s best donut.

A malasada isn’t just a donut without a hole. The dough is richer, made with eggs, yeast, and milk, giving it a pillowy texture. The outside is golden and slightly crisp, coated in sugar (plain, cinnamon, or li hing). Some come unfilled, but most visitors are drawn to the custard, haupia, guava, or lilikoi centers. There’s even a rotating flavor of the month.

Unlike a typical donut, a malasada is meant to be eaten moments after it’s made. That’s why shipping them to the mainland doesn’t work—and why Leonard’s won’t even try. One reader noted: “They wouldn’t be as fresh and yummy. That’s quite a way to ship. I feel your pain. How I would love a regular airdrop.”

How malasadas came to Hawaii.

The malasada’s roots stretch back to the Portuguese island of São Miguel in the Azores. However, when we were on Madeira Island recently, they claimed the origin was there instead. In any event, immigrants to Hawaii brought the recipe to the islands in the 1800s when they arrived to work on sugar plantations.

Leonard Rego, the grandson of two of those workers, opened his namesake bakery in Honolulu in 1952. His mother suggested he make malasadas for Shrove Tuesday—a pre-Lenten tradition on the islands. They were an immediate hit.

Today, Leonard’s still uses a version of that same recipe. The original shop was at 758 Kapahulu, and then in 1957, they moved to their current location at 933 Kapahulu Avenue, just a few minutes from Waikiki. But malasadas have spread far beyond that location.

Island malasada favorites beyond Oahu.

On the Big Island, Tex Drive-In in Honokaa is nearly as famous as Leonard’s. Their malasadas are oversized, and you can watch them being made through a glass window. Many Beat of Hawaii readers discovered malasadas there first. One shared: “We went twice, even though it was a 45-minute drive each way. Best in our opinion, even compared to Leonard’s.”

Others favor Punalu‘u Bake Shop in Naalehu, known for its lilikoi-filled malasadas, or Hanalima Bakery on Kauai. Maui visitors have shouted out Sugar Beach Bake Shop in Kihei. One reader remembered the long-gone Kmart in Lihue for its fried dough.

No matter the bakery, malasadas are now part of the Hawaii experience. One reader said, “My body was shaking with joy. I had never tasted anything so delicious in my life. Coconut and guava are my favorites.” Another added, “We walked there every morning. Good memories.”

Our Honolulu visit.

We joined the line mid-morning on a weekday during our latest stop at Leonard’s. It moved quickly. We ordered a half-dozen: two custard, one haupia, one dobash, one lilikoi, and one plain with cinnamon sugar. The wait outside was just long enough to build anticipation. When the pink box finally landed in our hands, we opened it right on the sidewalk.

The custard was still warm inside. The lilikoi had a tart edge that cut through the richness. The cinnamon was satisfying and straightforward. The dobash? Soft, messy, and all chocolate. We were back the next day.

What readers say about malasadas.

Many Beat of Hawaii readers have written in with their malasada memories—some spanning decades. One said, “My husband and I honeymooned on Oahu 47 years ago. We stayed in a rooming house blocks from Leonard’s and walked there every morning.”

Others described rituals. One family grabs malasadas on the way to the airport. Another walks from the Honolulu Zoo to Leonard’s daily while staying in Waikiki. A reader shared, “My brother-in-law had only three words to describe them: wow, wow, wow.”

Not every review was positive. One commenter wrote: “Too much oil and no flavor. Way too hyped up about nothing.” That sparked a quick reply: “No accounting for taste. If you claim what you ate had no flavor, you did not eat a Leonard’s malasada.”

And then there was this: “Just say the name Leonard’s, and my heart grows three times.”

Where to find them today and every day.

Leonard’s Bakery is open from 5:30 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. daily. It’s best to go early to avoid significant parking headaches, and be mindful of signage—tickets are standard. Leonard’s Malasadamobiles can be found at Waikele Shopping Center, Pearlridge, Windward Mall, and Koko Marina for those venturing beyond Waikiki. All serve malasadas fresh to order.

Want to bring the flavor home? One of our readers tried a recipe based on Leonard’s and said it came close. We’ve linked it in our original malasada article, along with a video filmed at Leonard’s for inspiration.

Why National Donut Day feels different in Hawaii.

While national donut brands push promotions and giveaways—especially today, National Donut Day—Hawaii doesn’t need validation. You won’t find free malasadas at Leonard’s, Tex, or Punalu‘u. You get something better: fresh, handmade pastries tied to place, served hot and worth every penny.

The malasada isn’t a gimmick or a once-a-year treat. It’s a cultural staple rooted in immigration, plantation history, family traditions, and Hawaii travel. It’s also a simple joy that island visitors carry with them long after their trip ends.

One reader put it best: “Just say the name Leonard’s, and my heart grows three times.”