Opening Credits, now amended to mention the upcoming live finale in Aspen. Eh. I’m not as excited about this as they seem to think I should be. There’s something depressing about ski resorts in the off season. Is there anything more disheartening than taking a ski lift to the top of a grassy mountain littered with trail markers that announce, “This is where people would usually be having fun.” And while a finale in, say, Hawaii would seem to invite all kinds of inventive dishes, what in the world are they going to do with ski cuisine here? A hot chocolate and fondue cook-off?

“Only five remain…” and at the start of this season, I don’t think I’d ever have guessed it would be these five, would you? But I am pretty happy about it, I must say. I like how multi-culty they are as a group, how much they depart from the white, straight, macho, male figures who still seem to rule the world of cheffing, as evidenced, you’ll see, by the judges in this very episode.

While last week’s episode title referenced a notorious movie bomb, this week’s – “The Manhattan Project” – ups the ante to an actual bomb, and not just any old one, but a major Bomb as in “The.” That would seem to portend a disaster of “Day After” proportions; instead, we get a surprising and welcome departure from gimmicky challenges and camera-ready tirades from the judges. It’s a refreshing return to basics, with a real focus on flavor, preparation, technique, and presentation. Hey, what show is this anyway?

And who knew that when I coined the term “cheffersons,” they would indeed move on up to a deluxe apartment in the sky? Yes, having finally managed to escape from New Jersey, our five remaining cheffersons have hit New York, New York. And if they can make it there, they can make it anywhere. Even Aspen. SPOILER: one of them, it turns out, can’t make it there.

Obligatory opening montage to introduce New York City, which is apparently stuck in a continuous loop of the movie Koyaanisqatsi. Yes, life moves at such a fast pace here, even the clouds are hurriedly rushing by on their morning commute, unable to stop to give the time of day to annoying tourist chefs from Miami by way of Newark. Also, to make it extra clear it’s New York, we get a shot of a bridge and a subway car, two items you couldn’t possibly see in any other city in the world.

The cheffersons have the morning off and look absolutely giddy about it, and who can blame them? If I’m not mistaken, this is the first time they’ve been allowed a few casual hours that aren’t really the elaborate set-up for some cruel, prank-like challenge. I’m sure they’re worried that some hot dog cart vendor is going to rip off a mask and reveal himself to be Padma: “Welcome to the Hebrew National Challenge! Your task is to turn this vat of pinkish hot dog water into a gourmet dish for the cast of the Metropolitan Opera! You have five minutes.”

For the occasion of the final few episodes, Dale has dipped into his private stock of novelty T-shirts, following last week’s “Sleazy” with one that I thought read “Horny,” an observation that my wise, wonderful partner said made Dale “look like he’s going through the seven gay dwarves.” Then we realized it actually said “Honky,” which is still pretty funny, but I think we all prefer a Sleazy, Horny Dale, am I right?

The cheffersons are aimlessly wandering around the streets of Manhattan with these kind of excited yet dazed expressions, and it reminds me of when I was in junior high and my friends and I would take the train into the city and be like, “Wow, we’re in the City. Um … now what? Oh, look, The Gap!”

It’s too bad they don’t have CJ with them, because he had the good sense to crave New York pizza. Instead, they make the pretty unfortunate choice of going for street-side shish-kebob, which in my experience never tastes as satisfying as the enticing aroma would have you believe. Also, that “meat” is highly, highly suspect, enough to make you wonder why there are still so many rats and pigeons on the streets of the city.

But they quickly go from the cheap eats of the street to “requiring a mortgage to cover the tab, and that’s just at the bar” uptown fancy, stopping in at the famed Le Cirque. I’ve never been there but, God, does it look gorgeous. I have got to find a job with an expense account. Or a Sugar Daddy. With an expense account.

The cheffersons sit at this big round table and are presented with this fish dish that they start to enjoy, but you just know there’s no such thing as a free lunch, especially at Le Cirque, especially on this show, and most especially if Padma’s around.