Fcking Miracle

You didn't fry the latkes. You lit this. Fcking Miracle smells like your bubbe's kitchen during Hanukkah: crispy potatoes sizzling in oil, sweet cinnamon applesauce, and that warm golden scent of eight nights worth of fried everything. Light it, let everyone assume you've been grating potatoes since sunrise, and graciously accept compliments when you definitely bought the sufganiyot. It's savory enough to smell like actual latkes, sweet enough to justify the applesauce you're about to demolish, and rich enough that no one questions whether you earned this vibe. Perfect for when the oil lasted eight nights but your motivation lasted about two, when publicizing the miracle means menorah in the window and effort into ambiance, and when you want all the Festival of Lights warmth without the mandoline danger or oil cleanup. Burn it and call it faith with better branding.