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Hurts Donuts, Frisco's new 24-hour donut shop

Photo by Cody Cobb So what’s the deal with Hurts Donuts anyway? Home of arguably the dirtiest dozens in Frisco, a Hurts Donuts location opened with sky-high sales, churning out a whopping average of 15,000 donuts a day.
Photo by Cody Cobb

So what’s the deal with Hurts Donuts anyway? Home of arguably the dirtiest dozens in Frisco, a Hurts Donuts location opened with sky-high sales, churning out a whopping average of 15,000 donuts a day. Granted, the shop is open 24/7. According to their Facebook, they’ve been receiving about three phone calls a minute, all day long, and guests are warned to expect 90-minute waits. So I drop by on a Monday night after 11, when surely most people have given up on their donut dreams in exchange for sleep, right? Not so.

11 p.m.

The line isn’t as bad as expected, just one casual loop around the interior. It’s a wide open space that smells like baking, littered with “Do’s” and “Donut’s” like “Do bring children. Donut release them like wild wolves.”

The donuts speak for themselves, gloriously fat and decked out with crushed oreos, sprinkles, wild icings and even faces. The famous Nutella-stuffed donuts have probably been sold out since dawn, but there are four Cookie Monster donuts at bottom tray. Maybe if I stare hard enough, just one will stay put long enough for me to order it. Almost immediately, two of them are scooped up and boxed.

11:11 p.m.

Everyone in line ahead of me orders a whole box. Everyone’s prepared for the wait, most in very comfy clothes, and in pairs to ward off boredom. I feel a sense of comradery with the others in line. We’re all here for a common purpose, the pursuit of too much sugar.

11:16 p.m.

A sign by the cash register reads “Just like Mom never made.” I chuckle to myself about it to ward off impending hunger. The board over the counter lists the rules and prices. Apparently there are slight discounts if you let the staff pick your donut for you. I consider saving three dollars, the price of one kolache, before tax.

11:18 p.m.

I shuffle forward in line.

11:19 p.m.

I shuffle forward in line.

11:20 p.m.

I shuffle forward in line.

11:24 p.m.

The customer in front of me lets on that he is a repeat guest. On Friday the line was wrapped around the building twice and he waited 2 ½ hours for a dozen, only to get to the front of the line and have just three choices available. But he’s back. Something in these magical circles of dough must inspire loyalty.

I’m told by another passing donut connoisseur that on his last–failed–attempt to wait in line for hours for a donut, a customer in front of him ordered a dozen and ate four before even leaving the premises.


11:27 p.m.

I shuffle forward in line.

11:35 p.m.

I read the pricing board again and discover new gems of knowledge like the $20 Big Mouth Challenge, what I suspect is one large donut, or 6-7 regular priced kolaches.

I could reorder my entire world using kolaches as commerce. I’ll call it “kolache-ism.”

11:36 p.m.

If there are $3 to a kolache there are roughly 6.67 kolaches to a $20. There is an even one Maple-Bacon donut to one kolache.

11:42 p.m.

Another Cookie Monster donut is boxed. There’s one left, sitting alone in the Oreo-crumbles from his brothers, staring at me.

The sense of comradery I’ve built in my head with other customers is souring. We are not allies but enemies all in pursuit of one precious goal: the last Cookie Monster donut, decorated with approximately ½ of a pack of Oreos and worth approximately ⅔‘s of a kolache.

11:49 p.m.

The final Cookie Monster donut is lifted from the tray. It is placed in a box. Down goes the lid. All that remains are some very sad Oreo crumbles, worth exactly no kolaches. It’s my darkest moment.

11:56 p.m.

Finally, a smiling staff member, either selling donuts or enlightenment, greets me. I arrived with plans to order one. Somehow–hunger and mourning for the last Cookie Monster donut–I walk away with an even dozen (worth approximately five kolaches.) At a certain point self restraint went on the window. I have been here for an hour. I need appropriate compensation in sugar.

12:04 a.m.

Two Twix donuts. Pink Lemonade. Two Raspberry Cheesecake donuts (I think). Fruity Pebbles. Cookies ‘n’ Cream. Mint Oreo. Caramel Delight. Nertz. Old Fashioned. German Chocolate.

I cut bits off of each which probably amount to one donut (worth approximately ⅓ of a kolache.) They’re vastly different: neon Pink Lemonade, Fruity Pebbles–as amazing as it sounds–and my personal favorite, Twix which tastes just like a Twix bar. Caramel Delight is basically a Samosa’s more successful, better-looking older brother. Raspberry Cheesecake is a knockout in every way. Even the Old Fashioned, simple as it is, has just the amount of heavy glaze it needs, balanced and, in comparison to the others, easy.

They’re all cake donuts; dense rather than airy. It’s the only way they’d hold up without being crushed under the weight of the toppings and fillings. They don’t take themselves too seriously, but it’s a donut shop. How serious does it need to be? Every single one is handmade, but the designs are unbelievably flawless considering. Demand is high and so is supply, but the quality holds up. When it comes to fillings and toppings, there’s no skimping and while some combinations seem a little too quirky to work out, it works.

On a Monday night, the trip took about an hour, which by Hurts standards lately, isn’t bad at all. So is the reward worth the journey? I say yes. It’s all part of the fun.

Six out of the dozen | Cookies N Cream, Twix, Caramel Delight, Mint Oreo, Fruity Pebbles, Nertz and Raspberry Cheesecake

Good to know

  • All donuts are first come, first serve with no special requests at this time due to the sheer number of customers.
  • Expect deliveries and call-aheads to become available mid-2017.
  • 70 varieties are made on a daily rotation.

Hours: “25 hours a day, 8 days a week!”

Where: 3288 W. Main St., Frisco, TX 75033