Whipped

I delivered an afternoon tea to a table of 5 on Sunday.
One man leaned back in his chair, gestured at the cream and said:
"Is that squirty or clotted?"
"Neither," I replied.
He made a noise which was a sort of laugh. There was definitely a superiority about it.
I think it's the closest I've come to hearing someone snort with derision.
"What do you mean by neither?" he snorted (with derision - getting the hang of this now)
I answered that if by "squirty" he meant the cream which comes in a can and is squirted out, then it wasn't that. And it wasn't clotted either.
"What is it then?" (the incredulity remained in his voice)
"It's whipped double cream from Mawley Town Farm in Cleobury Mortimer" I answered, giving him the very best information I had.
"Ah," he said, all pleasantness itself, "that's good". And then went on to criticise semi-skimmed and skimmed milk.

He came in as he was leaving to compliment us on our scones.
I told him they were home made.
"I knew it," he said.