MasterChef Australia has always been a sometimes food for me. Though some seasons I’ve devoured whole, others I’ve only lightly snacked on or skipped entirely. I’ll can the food metaphors now – but this is to say that I had only watched the show sporadically during Jock Zonfrillo’s time on the show and I hadn’t paid him much mind.
I knew the Scottish-born judge and chef had owned restaurants in South Australia, championed Australian native ingredients and loved a three-piece suit. But that was about it. I didn’t know his real name was Barry nor that he was half Italian. I didn’t know he started working in kitchens at 12 years old or that his stint as a judge on MasterChef, alongside fellow judges Andy Allen and Melissa Leong, wasn’t his first TV rodeo. And I had absolutely no idea he had struggled with substance abuse, mental health and homelessness.
Then he died, tragically and decades too soon, the day before this year’s season was meant to premiere – and, drunk on clickbait, I fast went from knowing almost nothing about this man’s life to knowing arguably too much. Such is the aftermath of a celebrity’s death, especially one so young and unexpected.
Through countless articles and social media tributes from the likes of Gordon Ramsay, Marco Pierre White and Nigella Lawson, I learned that Zonfrillo packed a hell of a lot into 46 years; and that after an early life filled with epic highs and extreme lows, he wore his demons on his tattooed sleeves and took his failures in his stride, appearing to have come out the other end with a promising future, a beautiful young family and a new life in Rome. Feeling weird about how much I suddenly knew about this man and his family, I felt a small duty to watch his swan song, filmed earlier this year.
The season 15 premiere of MasterChef Australia was delayed a week “out of respect”. Network 10 pulled digital ads and promos across its platforms but it was too late to stop the billboards, bus and tram wrappers, and radio ads, already in circulation. I don’t listen to commercial radio, but seeing Zonfrillo’s smiling face everywhere I look since the news of his death broke has been a tad surreal: giant, glossy reminders of the fragility of life and the nature of celebrity.
Soon came a relentlessly repeated line of new adverts, heavy on the heartstrings and wisely stripped of all references to “Secrets and Surprises” – the season’s overarching theme, mentions of which remain in the show itself. With Zonfrillo front and centre in all of them, it’s hard to not feel queasy that a man’s death has become useful for marketing a show – but to be fair I think it would probably feel like that no matter what they did. When the season premiere did finally air last Sunday, it began with a note to viewers, acknowledging the judge’s “sudden and tragic passing” and dedicating the season to him and his family.
Watching Zonfrillo on-screen this past week, I’ve noticed things about him that, as a casual viewer, I’d never seen before. Like how his left eyebrow was almost permanently cocked, adding to the cheeky rebel air he’d cultivated if not been born with; how he laughed with his mouth wide open, actually saying “ha ha ha” between gasps; and how he often clutched a strand of worry beads (Zonfrillo had his own worry bead line).
I’ve squirmed slightly at several lines of dialogue that would have been fleeting and innocuous had he lived, but brimmed with new meaning in his wake. “What a time to be alive,” he said while talking to a contestant making ramen from scratch. “Egg ravioli live or die by this moment,” he told another hopeful, referring to the desired oozing of yolk when cutting into the little pasta pillows of joy.
What I’ve always liked about MasterChef is its commitment to positivity and kindness. While not quite at Great British Bake Off levels of wholesomeness, this is not a show bursting with drama or scandal. There’s no nastiness nor double-crossing. Yes, there are sob stories and theatrics – but it’s reality television. Everyone is nice, at least in front of the cameras, and Zonfrillo was no exception.
From his encouraging mid-challenge words to his frank, reassuring critiques, he was a consummate mentor, guiding without chiding while gently pushing contestants out of their comfort zones. “Do you want the feedback light and fluffy, or clear and severe?” he would ask when someone presented a substandard dish, providing something in between, no matter their choice. “This is more stressful than cooking,” he said, visibly shaken watching five of the amateur cooks trying to keep up with notorious knife wizard Jamie Oliver. And his compassion in a flashback from season 13, counselling the now returned contestant Brent Draper through his decision to leave the show for mental health reasons: “Every single person in this kitchen is proud of you.” Were these moments manufactured? Probably. Do I care? No.
Zonfrillo’s wife has lost a husband and his children a father and nothing can make that less real for them. But at least they have this. It is a poor substitute, but if I’d been left with a stockpile of footage of my late parents – not just ageing photos, but actual footage of them doing what they loved – well, at least I’d have that.
MasterChef Australia continues on Network 10 and 10 Play.
