It's a shame, too, that this realization had to occur in "Top Chef" Mecca, aka, Tom Colicchio's flagship New York restaurant, Craft. It's also a shame that Padma finds it appropriate to spit out food she isn't wild about. Where are you manners, Ms. Lakshmi? Read on for more on how the 15 remaining chefs choked in the House of the Head Judge.

But unlike her "Hannah Montana" character, Miley Stewart, Cyrus does not have an alternate identity allowing her to lead a regular life despite her superstardom.

While it's too late for Cyrus to experience "The Best of Both Worlds" in that way, the first season of Hannah Montana, out now on DVD, does offer some instructional lessons about fame, whether the real-life Miley opted to heed them or not.

But, wait, there is a way to revolt against the monopoly that is the Food Network, Giada, Bobby and Paula.

Enter Jacques Pepin and public television.

Pepin is not overstylized. Pepin is not going to use cream of mushroom soup as a base for a green bean casserole. He grew up in France, living through a world war and cooking for top restaurants. Once stateside, he whipped through plenty of cooking assignments, even landing as a director of research and new development at Howard Johnson's. He counted Julia Child as a friend and has written 26 cookbooks.

With his new PBS show, "More Fast Food My Way" (a sequel to the show/book "Fast Food My Way") and companion book, the 73-year-old, heavily accented chef is tearing through the country on a P.R. tour — and getting really mad about thick sauce reductions posing as punctuation on a plate.

GOOD GRAVY, I have missed this — my withdrawal symptoms have been dismal, as I developed a severe addiction during the first four seasons. This show is potent; a concoction of food and drama that I would take via IV if Bravo offered it that way.

Padma's blunders, Tom's sass, egos spiked with foie gras and this round, rainbows. It's back, with a heavy contestant load and a vengeance — it's "Top Chef" season five, and it's all going down in the Big Apple.

To begin with, here's a cheftestant glossary, which you can refer back to when reading about the challenges. I'm keeping it brief. They're rollin' deep this year, and you'll remember half these people about as well as you remember season four's Nimma (exactly):

» Alex: Latino from Los Angeles. Works at Restaurant 15. Lived all over the world. Engaged.

» Ariane: Self-proclaimed Jersey girl. Executive chef at the CulinAriane in Montclaire, N.J. Married with children.

» Carla: Born in Nashville. Owns Alchemy Caterers in D.C. (whutwhut!). Married with stepson.

» Danny: From New York, heavy on the accent. Fancy beard. Dating a "fisherman" who is, in fact, a lady.

» Fabio: From Florence, Italy. Owns a restaurant in California. Married.

» Gene: From Oauhu, Hawaii. The token "no culinary school and proud" dude. Married with children.

» Hosea: Big white man. From New Mexico, lives in Boulder, Colo. That is all we know.

» Jamie: From New York City. Gay and proud. Loves Madonna ... a lot.

» Jeff: Resembles a Surfer Ken doll. From Florida. Works at the Ritz Carlton in Miami.

» Jill: Nondescript brunette from Pennsylvania, likes music. Like I said, nondescript.

» Lauren: From Ohio, went to the Culinary Institute of America (CIA). Married with dachshunds. Husband currently serving in Iraq.

» Leah: Native New Yorker, from the Bronx. Lived in Italy, went to CIA. Spunky.

» Melissa: Token mellow earthy chick. Lives in Boulder. Works at Centro Latin Kitchen.

» Patrick: From Massachusetts. "Ate feelings as a child." Gay and proud. Still a student at CIA.

» Radhika: From Ohio, first generation Indian. Lives in Chicago, "loves to crochet and eat."

» Richard: From Long Island. Gay and Proud. Executive sous chef in San Diego. Partnered, with dogs.

» Stefan: Born in Finland. World traveled (and proud). Runs a catering company in Santa Monica. Single (and loving it).

Phew. That's too many cooks, kids. But not to worry, the fat-skimming begins almost immediately.

QUICKFIRE
Padma and Tom meet the clustermuck of fresh-from-the-plane cheftestants in a park, and waste not a moment. It's quickfire time! And in an unforeseen twist, "Top Chef" presents you with its first ever ELIMINATION QUICKFIRE. No, they're not kidding — someone is going home before things even get started.

It's an apple-themed challenge, but of course — 'tis NYC's signature fruit. There are three rounds, consisting of peeling with a paring knife, a perfect brunoise (tiny tiny chop) and cooking the apples to Tom's taste. Chefs are saved by the bell each round, and only the slowest move on.

Stefan wins, and earns immunity for the elimination challenge. After frantic peeling and chopping (and bloodied apples — take it easy, Richard!), there are but four chefs left in the elimination round. Radhika and Leah make savory dishes with a protein and an apple topping, while Patrick and Lauren make salads. SALADS? That's how you're going to win Colicchio's cold, hungry heart? Fools, I tell you.

He clearly hates both of them, but sends Lauren packing. One down, sixteen to go.

The hospital comedy was on life support last year as it slogged through what would have been its seventh and final season if the writer's strike hadn't gotten in the way. While season seven never quiet wrapped up, NBC didn't care and dropped the show from the network. ABC stepped in, but will the network save "Scrubs" from its impending demise? (ABC plans to pump new life into the show and keep it going, although star Zach Braff will leave after this season.)

What used to be such an innovative and compelling series has been reduced to poor caricature. Initially, Bill Lawrence created a world where imagination made sense. Protagonist J.D.'s (Braff) whimsical narration and dream sequences drove the show, with ridiculous scenarios often building to a moral lesson. The show was equal parts intelligent, funny, far-fetched and poignant.

But somewhere along the line (arguably, the middle of season five), "Scrubs" lost its way, perhaps trapped in its own self-referential and wacky style. It's gone so far from its roots that it's easy to forget how good the show used to be.

With this week's release of "Scrubs: The Complete Season Seven" on DVD, here are four things that have helped "Scrubs" along on the path to irrelevance.

From the massive hatred toward season one runner-up Tiffani Faison to the crush every female contestant seemed to have on season two participant Sam Talbot (honestly, who didn't?) to even securing its own corner of the publishing world with "Top Chef: The Cookbook," "Top Chef" has risen to the top echelon of Bravo's ranks in the past two years, not only expanding the network's coverage past its fashion and home design bubble but also securing another solid fanbase (after all, as the recent fiasco with Lifetime proves, "Project Runway" can't stick around forever).

Nov. 12 marks the premiere of the fifth season of "Top Chef," and with 17 new contestants competing in New York City, the Big Apple will play host to this incarnation's quickfire and elimination challenges. Before the cooking and chaos begins, though, Express counts down the series' top five most memorable moments so far — kind of like a foodie's ultimate guilty pleasure, but without the calories.

The third season of "30 Rock" premieres Oct. 30 on NBC, which lead us to go back and consider the finest Jack Donaghy segments from the first two years.

But even two seasons' worth of material is too much to clearly define the "top five" Jack Donaghy moments — the genius overfloweth — so here are just "five."

Fortunately, the camera barely pays them any attention before it descends below the bleachers, where it finds the show's true denizens: the stoners, misfits, bad kids, freaks and geeks.

The show, which was set in 1980, doesn't base its depiction of high school on the typical hierarchy of popularity. There are cheerleaders and jocks, of course, as well as nerds and outcasts, but they actually interact in intriguing ways, creating one of the most complex and
realistic views of American high school, one that resounded beyond its period-piece setting.

Leanne won and Korto placed and Kenley and her horse-teeth showed, as it were. The collections told the whole story, no travesties of fashion justice took place, the snail is on the thorn, etc.

Except.

Tim Gunn should not have been a judge. I understand from his recounting of the frantic backstory that his position on the tribunal had all the inch-by-inch inevitability of the slow-cooked frog in the parable. But by the time he ended up fricasseed on the plate, his role as the "Project Runway" mentor, advice-giver and sometime adversary was compromised by his role as a judge. He'd seen the work in the designers' ateliers, watched it grow in the Parsons workroom, he's walked the vines — as the owner of Arrowine says in that local ad that play 7,394 times per episode — and came into the judging process with opinions, an understanding of how closely the designers listened to him, and the inspiration themes in place. Well, not Kenley's, because she's an ass and refused to tell him.

As Tim tells it, J. Lo came down with a headache in her foot, no other celebrities were willing to ring the opening bell — even Fern Mallis, who was there and is an awesome judge? — and at 10 minutes to showtime, Heidi hauled him into her interrogation dungeon and put the big Teutonic boot to the man. (I may be interpreting some of this.) Why not just scrap the fourth-judge position? Three is a tie-breaking number anyway.

But because the collections were so distinct and, really, none of the work was a departure for the ladies, the clear points of view on the runway made for a clear winner.