’Â çímma

"Queste nuvole non sono da intendersi come fenomeni atmosferici: queste nuvole sono quei personaggi ingombranti e dannosi della nostra vita civile, politica ed economica che io cerco di descrivere, insieme ad alcune loro vittime, nella prima parte dell'album: sono i personaggi che detengono il potere con tutta la loro arroganza e i loro cattivi esempi. I protagonisti della seconda parte sono invece i figli del popolo i quali, nella misura in cui è loro consentito dai potenti descritti nella prima parte, continuano tranquillamente a farsi i fatti loro, rinunciando a quella protesta, a quella indignazione collettiva di fronte al malgoverno, indignazione e protesta che io ritengo le condizioni irrinunciabili per non rischiarci la democrazia. Il coro di cicale che chiude la prima parte del disco, e al quale io stesso mi unisco, sta appunto a significare come tali nostre proteste e indignazioni stiano sempre più assumendo il sapore di un vago e rassegnato cicaleccio".
(da “Storie di uomini, di nuvole e di cicale”, intervista di F. De André con A. Podestà pubblicata su "TV Sorrisi & Canzoni", 1990)

 çímma, la cima alla genovese, uno dei piatti forti della tradizione ligure: una tasca di carne di vitello farcita di una moltitudine di ingredienti, cucita a mano, fatta bollire per alcune ore in un telo di lino e poi lasciata riposare sotto un peso. Una preparazione lunga, accurata, che deve seguire un preciso rituale e che può talora trasformarsi in “tragedia” se nel corso della bollitura la tasca scoppia rilasciando la sua ricca imbottitura.

Un piatto della tradizione preparato dalle solite sapienti mani di donne povere e assaporato dalle ganasce dei soliti ricchi divoratori. Alla povera cuoca della canzone non resta altro che augurar loro che ci si strozzino: “Poi vengono a prenderla i camerieri, ti lasciano tutto il fumo del tuo mestiere. Tocca allo scapolo la prima coltellata. Mangiate, mangiate non sapete chi vi mangerà…”

La foto (e la çimma) sono di Laura Raggio

A cook (probably, a woman) is preparing one of the masterpieces of the Genoese cuisine: the Cima ripiena (A çimma in Genoese), a very complicated veal meat dish filled with different ingredients (vegetables, eggs, garlic, Parmesan cheese etc.). The çimma is not only complicated and extremely long to be prepared: it is also very expensive, and makes of course no everyday meal even in rich houses. It is made for special occasions. The cook is preparing this special dish for God knows what occasion, and is turning over in his mind all the exact preparation of the dish (the song is also a recipe!) together with his deepest thoughts, the thoughts of a humble and skilled worker who had to wake up at daybreak to start preparing the çimma for her masters, someone who will eat it and not even thank him for her hard work. The cook has sort of mystical relationship with the food he is preparing: in this, she is totally similar to artists, painters, sculptors, musicians... the only difference, is that the cook's masterpiece doesn't last long and can't be admired by posterity. It will be eaten in short time. That's why the cook thinks he will be soon robbed of the fruit of his art, an art for which he is little paid; the only thing left is smoke. Though served at rich tables or in luxury restaurants, the Çimma was in origin a “poor” dish made of mixed leftovers. And that's why the cook, while preparing the dish, mixes his grudge to the recipe he is executing with skill and love; anyway, she won't get even a crumble of it. When the house servants come to serve the dish, the cook gives her masters and their guests her terrible wish: “Eat, eat, you don't know who'll eat you...” Then the cook gives her masterpiece one last glance before it is served (according to tradition, the first slice is cut by a bachelor) and disappears in someone's stomach. It will turn into shit, sooner or later. Work, art, desperation, skill, grudge...everything ends up in shit expelled from an unknown and unknowing body. Still, the cook doesn't renounce being proudly aware of her underestimated and shit-producing art made for the rich: while preparing, she recites all the ancestral spells of cooks, even praying the Virgin Mary that she would chase away evil spirits from the pot....

That is A çimma. Though not so well known like other songs by Fabrizio De André, I strongly think it is one of his masterpieces, like the dish the cook is preparing in it. The song is not, and can't be, easy. It can't be sung easily, or even remembered, due to the language in which it is composed. Few understand the old-fashioned, and even archaic, Genoese language used by De André; the song can't be easily “covered”. Like all masterpieces, it is a simple story concealing and holding multiple stories and themes. The song was written together with another renowned Genoese folksinger, Ivano Fossati . Today, I was preparing a rather complicated dish for myself; there was no special reason why. Kind of moussaka with green peppers instead of aubergines. And I ate it unaware of who will eat me, one day. Çé serén, téra scûa... [RV, 06-06-2019]

Note. The Genoese lyrics of the song are usually presented without punctuation marks. This is a rather old method of showing song lyrics, and has its exact raison d'être: there's no need of showing pauses and pitches in something made for singing. Anyway, I don't like it that much and I have introduced marks “motu proprio”.