I think it was the day before we went to Chesterfield that my mom, Arlene, and I went out to breakfast at Red Hot Roasters with Keene.
Keene is an old friend of mom’s whom we’ve met before and whom she talks about all the time — mostly things like, “Keene brought me over a dozen eggs one day last week,” and “save the eggshells for Keene’s chickens.” So I had forgotten that besides keeping chickens, he’s a clinical psychologist. He also has pretty strong opinions, listens intently, and looks like an authentic weatherbeaten westerner.
Red Hot Roasters is run by a Chinese couple. They have very good food, but maybe only have one person in the kitchen and don’t seem to have figured out how to cook more than one thing at a time — so service is slow. But we were going there to talk, so it didn’t matter.