We're BA-ACK! But before I get going in earnest, here, may I make a little proclamation, please? Young chefs of America, hear me, I beg of you: The freakin' fauxhawk is OVER. Done. Burned to a crisp. 2003 called; it wants your hairdo back.

Ah -- that felt good.

Now, then: What a rip-snorter of an opening episode! TC4:Chicago wasted no time sucking me in as a viewer, toque-over-clogs. What really struck me, aside from the affection I felt upon seeing those beauty shots of my beloved, adopted hometown, was how I immediately fell for this shiny, new crop of cheftestants -- all of them. What a funny, quirky, passionate collection of talents -- including my man Andrew, who instantly established himself as season 4's cocky, hair-trigger nutcase (and I mean that in the nicest way). I called it, friends: the minute Andrew told us judges we'd have to have him dragged out by security, I knew Bravo was going to use that moment for a promo spot. Stay tuned to watch the veins throb in his head and the smoke shoot out of his ears! Stay tuned to see if he's hauled away in a straitjacket -- or if he wins it all! And kudos to the Top Chef casting department!