Grate horseradish for five minutes and your eyes will run like you've had bad news. It's brutal work, which is why people bought it ready-made in green or brown bottles — and why some of those bottles had turnip in them, or wood pulp, bulked out where nobody could see.
Heinz, born in Pittsburgh in 1844, put his in clear glass. That's it. That's the whole argument. No label needed, no promises, just look at it: white shreds, nothing hiding at the bottom. He went on to pickles and ketchup and pushed hard for the Pure Food and Drug Act in 1906, but the clear jar came first and it says the same thing.
Anyway. I've burnt enough batches to know you can't hide a bad one in daylight either.
Rosa, the root sitting in the ground is almost odourless. The heat only exists once you break the cells — it's a brassica, cousin to mustard and cabbage, and that burn is a chemical defence meant for whatever's chewing on it. You grating it in the kitchen is just the plant doing the last thing it knows how to do.
The 57 was never a count. He got it in 1896 off a sign advertising 21 styles of shoes, liked the look of a 5 and a 7, and stuck with it (the company was already selling well past sixty things at the time). Clear glass for the horseradish, invented arithmetic for the slogan.