Flustered.

Never in my life have I heard anyone, particularly a purported gourmand such as Ray, take a hot bite of breaded, golden-fried fresh perch and describe it as "muddy-tasting." The blighter even had the gall to throw the rest of his fish in the trash and ask if we kept Listerine. Not only were my hopes of selling him on angling dashed (perch are nearly all one can catch in the local waterways), but he had insulted my cookery and hospitality. When I said that we did not, he rummaged in the fridge and pantry and began assembling ingredients for nachos. The nerve some fellows show.