Anne Burrell Had Cryptic Response for ‘Worst Cooks in America’ Absence Months Before Death

Introduction

This may contain: a woman with blonde hair wearing a chef's coat

Anne Burrell left fans wondering why she wasn’t on a new season of her Food Network show before her death at age 55.

When Worst Cooks in America Celebrity Addition: Heroes vs. Villains aired in January with stars Jeff Mauro and Antonia Lofaso as mentors, users took to Burrell’s Instagram to ask why she wasn’t there.

“Chef — how come you are not doing Worst Cooks this season. That is your show,” one fan wrote on her Instagram, to which Burrell replied, “Uuuuughhh…I know. And I don’t know. 🫤🤷🏼‍♀️❤️.”

In a separate January Instagram post, another fan commented on a photo of Burrell’s pasta. “Looks delicious. I miss you on worst cooks. I’m sitting out this season,” the user wrote. Burrell responded, “You and me both Lovely!!! ❤️.”

Related: Sandra Lee Mourns Death of Anne Burrell: ‘Larger Than Life’
Burrell had served as a host of the series since 2010, alongside rotating cohosts which included the likes of Rachael Ray, Bobby Flay and more. Burrell was previously introduced as a sous chef on Iron Chef America before appearing in Secrets of a Restaurant Chef, Chopped, Chef Wanted, Food Network Star and House of Knives, which premiered in March.

Anne Burrell Rick Kern/Getty Images
News broke on Tuesday, June 17, that Burrell died in her Brooklyn home.

“Anne was a beloved wife, sister, daughter, stepmother, and friend — her smile lit up every room she entered,” her family said in a statement obtained by People. “Anne’s light radiated far beyond those she knew, touching millions across the world. Though she is no longer with us, her warmth, spirit, and boundless love remain eternal.”

The Food Network star’s cause of death has yet to be revealed. She is survived by her mother, Marlene, and sister, Jane, along with husband Stuart Claxton and his son, Javier.

Related: Most Shocking Celebrity Deaths of All Time
Less than one week before her death, Burrell shared a series of photos in New York City celebrating Elizabeth Falkner’s event at Soho House.

“A delicious and delightful evening last night @sohohouse for @cheffalkner ‘s “One Night Only” dinner,” she wrote via Instagram on Thursday, June 12. “SUUUUUUPER yummy with a great group of people. Thank you Chef for the invite and deliciousness!! #theclaxtons #ilovewhatido #luckygirl.”

In March, Burrell shared a career update with her Instagram followers. “OK … sooooooo a little update into the ‘Anne Burrell’ world. I know I have been kinda quiet of late. BUT I am taking ‘Improv for Actors’ at @secondcitynyc!!!” she captioned an Instagram post. “Can I just say it is SO much fun and I am learning so SO much!!! It really helps me get out of my shell… as if I needed that!!”

Video

You Missed

CONWAY TWITTY HAD THE RECORD-BREAKING HITS AND THE PACKED ARENAS — BUT HIS TRUE GENIUS WAS MAKING A CROWDED ROOM FEEL COMPLETELY PRIVATE. By 1990, country music was changing fast. A new generation of young stars was taking over the radio, and the traditional guard was quietly being pushed aside. But Conway Twitty never had to chase a trend. He already knew exactly who he was, and more importantly, he knew exactly what his audience needed to hear. When he released “Crazy in Love,” he didn’t rely on loud production or flashy vocal acrobatics. He simply stood at the microphone and did what he did best—he spoke directly to the soul of anyone who had ever loved someone deeply and quietly. The song isn’t about a young, fiery infatuation. It is the sound of a mature, enduring kind of romance. It is the voice of a man looking across the room at the woman he has loved for years, realizing that time has only made the feeling stronger. It captures the quiet vulnerability of admitting that, after everything, he is still completely captivated by her. That was the magic of the “High Priest of Country Music.” He didn’t just perform a lyric; he wrapped his voice around a feeling so intimate, it felt as though he was reading a private letter out loud. Though he has been gone for decades, his legacy remains untouched. When we listen to a song like “Crazy in Love,” we are reminded that we didn’t just lose a legendary entertainer—we lost a man who knew exactly how to put love into words when the rest of us couldn’t find them.

LORETTA LYNN TOLD HER LITTLE SISTER NOT TO SING LIKE HER. YEARS LATER, THE WHOLE WORLD KNEW CRYSTAL GAYLE BY A VOICE LORETTA COULD NEVER HAVE MADE. Crystal Gayle was born Brenda Gail Webb in Kentucky, nineteen years after Loretta Lynn. By the time Crystal was old enough to understand what country music could do, Loretta was already gone from home, married, raising children, and beginning the climb that would turn a coal miner’s daughter into one of the biggest names in Nashville. Crystal did not grow up sharing a bedroom with Loretta or standing beside her at the kitchen table. She grew up hearing what her sister had become. That kind of family name could open a door. It could also leave a younger singer trapped in the doorway. Loretta helped Crystal get her first record deal in 1970. At first, the records leaned toward the same hard country sound Loretta had made famous. But the comparison came fast. Every song was measured against the older sister. Every note sounded like it was being asked whether it belonged to Loretta’s world. Loretta gave her a simple warning. Do not sing my songs. Do not sing anything I would sing. Crystal listened. She left the old formula behind, signed with United Artists, and began working with producer Allen Reynolds. The sound changed. Softer. Smoother. More space around the voice. It still had country in it, but it carried itself differently — closer to late-night radio than a Saturday-night honky-tonk. Then came “Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue.” Released in 1977, the song did not sound like Loretta Lynn. It did not need to. Crystal sang it with a calm that made the hurt feel almost private. No warning shot. No fist on the table. Just a woman looking at somebody she loved and realizing the leaving had already happened. The record went to No. 1 on the country chart. It crossed onto pop radio. It won Crystal a Grammy. Her album We Must Believe in Magic became the first by a female country artist to go platinum. And the long hair stayed. It fell nearly to the floor, becoming part of the image people remembered first. But the real escape had happened before the hair became famous. Crystal Gayle had kept the family name close enough to honor it. Then she built a sound no one could confuse with Loretta’s.