The native and the foreign. Red with sunburn or white with sunscreen. The wrinkled and the botoxed. Some dripping with sea water. Jolly babes young and old. Cadillac rich and missing-car-window poor. They all come stand line to receive a pink box, contents whopping hot and fresh out of the fryer. Malasadas oozing with stuffed cream, tropical fruit, chocolate or simply brushed with cinnamon and sugar.
We also stood in line and picked up a pink box while in Honolulu. The heat from the contents quickly seeped through the thin cardboard and onto my lap. It was too hot to handle. We ate them so fast (almost burning our mouths) that I forgot to take a picture. Golden, plump, doughy, steaming, semi-sweet fried voluptuousness – gone in 4 bites.
Customer “parking” is misleading, as there are not nearly enough spaces to accommodate all the customers. The line of cars waiting to park stretched onto the side street, blocking traffic.
At Leonard’s, I found treasure.
And the coffee was exceptional.