The next day, Allen waited until noon before heading out.
Before leaving, he brought two cans, one large and one small.
The large one was for display, and the small one was to be opened on the spot.
His target was a shop in the Bowery District called "Gable's Groceries."
Allen had observed this store for several days; its storefront was clean and tidy, customers came and went in a continuous stream, and most importantly, the owner, Mr. Gable, was a shrewd businessman who seemed very particular about product quality.
Pushing open the glass door, which had a bell attached, a scent mixing coffee beans, tobacco, and cheese wafted out.
A gentleman with gold-rimmed glasses and meticulously combed hair was calculating something on an abacus behind the counter.
"Good afternoon, sir." Allen gently closed the door and walked to the counter.
Mr. Gable looked up at the sound, scrutinizing the unfamiliar young man from above his glasses.
His gaze lingered for a moment on Allen's faded old clothes, but he showed no disdain, merely asking indifferently.
"What do you need, young man?"
"I'm not here to buy anything, sir. I'm here to offer you something good that can make you money."
Allen said, taking the large can out of his cloth bag and gently placing it on the oak counter.
Mr. Gable's eyebrows twitched.
He had seen too many door-to-door salesmen, selling fake medicine, inferior tobacco, and all sorts of strange gadgets.
He had always had little fondness for these people.
"Canned goods?"
Mr. Gable glanced at it, a hint of obvious disappointment in his tone.
"Son, do you know how many kinds of canned goods I have on my shelves? Oil-packed sardines from France, baked beans from Boston, and local corned beef. They all have one thing in common: they don't sell very well."
"That's because they're not good enough."
Allen directly pointed out the key reason why the goods weren't selling well.
This surprised Mr. Gable; he put down the abacus in his hand and looked directly at Allen.
"Oh? Young man, judging by your tone, is there something different about your canned goods?"
"Of course, sir. Firstly, it's safety. As you know, people are most concerned about the quality of food."
Allen pointed to the seal of his can.
"Look here, no unsightly solder. I use a brand new technology that allows for a complete seal and is absolutely lead-free. I think your customers, especially mothers with children, would be happy to pay a little more for safety. And I've also applied new technology that allows the cans to be preserved for longer."
Mr. Gable adjusted his glasses and leaned in to observe carefully.
He did indeed see a difference; the seam was very smooth and uniform, unlike any other can he had ever seen.
This piqued his interest.
"Secondly, it's the taste."
Allen didn't give him much time to think, taking out the small can as well.
"Sir, seeing is believing. May I borrow your can opener?"
Mr. Gable silently stared at Allen for a few seconds, seemingly judging whether this was a scam or truly legitimate.
Ultimately, the businessman's curiosity overcame his wariness.
"Under the counter, help yourself."
Allen thanked him, bent down, and found an old-fashioned can opener that required a lot of force to operate.
Accompanied by a harsh scraping sound of metal, a crack was pried open in the can.
The moment it opened, a rich aroma of meat broth suddenly burst out.
This smell was exactly the same as what Allen had offered Mrs. Hudson before—mellow, rich, with an irresistible allure.
The two ladies who were selecting goods in the store both stopped what they were doing and looked over, following the scent.
Mr. Gable's expression also changed.
He had sold food his entire life, and his nose was sharper than a dog's.
He could distinguish that this was absolutely not the fake aroma produced by spices and inferior meat, but a complex deliciousness that could only be created by real beef and fresh vegetables simmered for a long time.
Allen didn't speak, he just used the can opener to pry open the entire lid, then pushed the can in front of Mr. Gable.
Inside the can, there was a rich, amber-colored, thick broth, with large chunks of beef stewed until tender, adorned with completely softened carrots and potatoes.
The presentation looked excellent.
"Hmm… this looks… quite good indeed." Mr. Gable's Adam's apple bobbed up and down.
He took a long-handled spoon from the nearby utensil holder, dipped it into the can, scooped out a spoonful of broth, and cautiously brought it to his mouth.
As the broth entered his mouth, his eyes suddenly lit up.
Fresh, fragrant, mellow, rich—all the flavors blended perfectly, finally leaving a hint of vegetable sweetness at the back of his tongue.
He then scooped up a small piece of beef.
The texture of the beef surprised him again; it was tender but still chewy, the sinews had completely turned into gelatin, and the mouthfeel was incredibly rich.
"What… what kind of meat is this made from?"
Mr. Gable couldn't help but ask.
He could swear this was better than any beef stew he had ever tasted in any restaurant.
"Brisket and beef shank, sir. Those cuts are usually considered secondary meats, only suitable for making soup."
Allen said, neither humble nor arrogant. He didn't mind revealing the main ingredients, as being able to cook them wasn't the key; the most crucial aspects were the taste and sealed preservation.
He also wasn't worried about being pressured to lower the price, as the deliciousness of the product had little to do with the price of the ingredients themselves.
Mr. Gable was completely stunned.
He looked at the young man before him, his eyes filled with disbelief.
To be able to make the cheapest meat taste better than the most expensive meat, in his opinion, this was no longer ordinary cooking skill; it was alchemy!
"How do you plan to sell it?"
After a moment of silence, Mr. Gable spoke, but his tone had completely changed, from the scrutiny of an elder towards a junior to the inquiry of a businessman towards a potential partner.
Allen knew he had succeeded.
"This small one, weighing about one pound, I suggest you sell for 40 cents. The large one, two pounds, sell for 75 cents."
"Your wholesale price, for now, will be 25 cents and 50 cents respectively."
Mr. Gable quickly calculated in his mind; this profit margin was quite considerable, but the price was also significantly higher than ordinary canned goods on the market.
"The price is too high, young man. My customers might not accept it."
He habitually began to haggle.
"Therefore, I have a second proposal."
Allen didn't mind, seeming to have anticipated this, and so he presented Plan B.
"For the first batch, I will stock your store for free. You can take 12 large cans and 24 small cans first. For those sold, you then pay me the wholesale price. After one month, if any are unsold, I will take them all back, and you will incur absolutely no loss."
At this suggestion, a glint flashed in Mr. Gable's eyes.
Zero risk!
For a businessman, could there be a sweeter phrase than that?
It seemed this young man not only possessed magical skills but also deeply understood the logic of business.
And his confidence in his product was so strong that he dared to bear all the risks.
Mr. Gable no longer hesitated and extended his hand.
"Then let's do it. Young man, what's your name?"
"Allen, Allen Williams."
Allen extended his hand and shook his firmly.
"Very good, Mr. Williams. I look forward to your canned goods bringing me surprises."
Mr. Gable pointed to the opened can.
"This one, I'll buy it at the retail price, 40 cents."
He counted out 40 cents from the cash box and handed it to Allen.
Allen took the heavy coins; this was the first real profit he had earned in this era through his wisdom and labor.
"Pleasure doing business, Mr. Gable. I'll deliver the goods tomorrow."
With that, Allen turned and left the grocery store, and the bell on the door rang again, its sound crisp and pleasant.
Walking back, the afternoon sun shone on him, warm and comforting.
Allen tightly clutched the 40 cents in his pocket, his heart burning with excitement.
This was just the insignificant first step.
But starting from Mr. Gable's grocery store, his canned goods would, like a virus, quickly occupy the city's shelves.
He firmly believed it!