Dutch-Surinamese Hot Chicken Sandwich–Broodje Hete Kip

Suriname is a republic in the northeast of South America. A former Dutch colony, it is unique in South America in that it recognizes Dutch as one of its official languages, along with 8 indigenous languages and a creole language, largely based on English, called Sranan Tongo. As with many other formerly colonized nations, the ethnic and cultural makeup of Suriname combines indigenous and European influence with the cultures from which the colony drew slave and indentured labor forces over the centuries it was under imperial rule as a plantation colony–Africa of course, India as well, Indonesia, and even China.

Surinamese cuisine, then, is a creole as well–Indian curries and Indian-derived roti similar to that of other Caribbean nations; Indonesian rice and noodle dishes such as nasi goreng and mie goreng; African peanut soups, bean dishes, and fritters; Chinese stir-fries; and much of it–so much of it–featuring chicken. Hete kip is one such chicken dish–not a particularly popular one within Suriname itself, it seems, or at least it doesn’t make many top 10 lists. Rather, it is popular in the Netherlands, where certain aspects of Surinamese cuisine have taken root as street foods. Hete kip, or “hot chicken,” is served as an entree over rice, perhaps with a cucumber salad. It seems to be more popular, however, as a sandwich filling, giving the Dutch broodje hete kip its name.

As is my usual practice, I read about a dozen different recipes–every one of them Google-translated from the Dutch–and tried to create an amalgam form using what I thought were the best features of each. I’m not sure what I came up with was exactly representative, as the recipes I read varied widely. Chicken featured in each of them, but in some it was breast meat while others used thighs; some had chicken cut into strips and sauteed or stewed while others poached and shredded the chicken. One bizarre recipe even created a type of combination marinade and batter, similar to the technique used in Chinese fried chicken, or the velveting technique used for many stir-fry dishes, and coated strips of chicken in that. Here, I thought, was a winner–but then it called for rinsing off the batter and boiling the chicken before stir-frying it.

Friends, I was baffled by this.

But I did the best I could, combining the seemingly good features of a half-dozen different recipes into this, my hybrid recipe for Surinamese/Dutch Hete Kip:

Hete kip, served as I did initially, over rice with a side of this mild, sweet Dutch-style cucumber salad, is a fine meal. The sauce is a bit on the sweet side from the kecap manis and the ketchup, and has a slight capsaicin kick from the habanero pepper and the sambal oelek, but is otherwise fairly straightforward, tasting largely of soy sauce with the expected allium baseline flavor and a sort of muted citrus/floral character provided by the galangal powder.

But this is not the chicken and rice tribunal, is it?

Broodje Hete Kip

The typical roll used in a Dutch sandwich is a variant of the Belgian pistolet, a small roundish or oval roll that can range from roughly the size and shape of a hamburger bun or Kaiser roll shape to something more akin to a torpedo roll or demibaguette. The recipe I based my pistolets on leaned more toward the latter, though I made a smaller version than it called for–rolls made from roughly 125-130 grams of dough, rolled into a ball then tucked and stretched and rolled again into a rough 6″ cylindrical shape.

Due to the 18 hour preferment that included an addition of sourdough starter discard (another example of me going off-script from the recipe as-published but I bet the bread would be great with no changes), these rolls have a nicely sour flavor with a crumb that is less light than I could have wished but workable for this sandwich.

As wth other Dutch Surinamese sandwiches, cucumbers are a common condiment served with Broodje Hete Kip.

Since the chicken itself is loose and saucy, I left a hinge along one side of the roll

Unfortunately that hinge was insufficient, and the crumb perhaps a little too substantial, and by the time I garnished the sandwich with crisp fried onions and tried to close it, everything fell apart.

So let’s try this again.

First off, my method of filling this was wrong. By splitting the roll open that wide, I was essentially weakening that “hinge” that I’d left. But without opening it all the way, filling the roll becomes difficult. Hot dog vendors solved this ages ago with the caddies they use to hold the bun while they fill it. I don’t have one of those, but I created a makeshift version using some craft sticks I found in the pantry.

This allowed me to fill the roll with the hot chicken without breaking it, giving the sandwich much greater structural integrity.

Then adding the cucumber slices is simply a matter of sliding them down between the chicken and the bread.

Finally, a sprinkle of fried onions completes the sandwich–though adding some achar or another Indian-style pickle is apparently a common option as well.

And the filling has now widened the bread roll enough that it is able to stand without the support of the sticks.

I have really taken this one down to the wire–I ate this sandwich for lunch on 5/31, with my self-imposed deadline to finish this piece during May. It was worth the wait, though. The fresh crunch of the cucumber slices and the crisp pungent wisps of fried onion provide a welcome texture counterpoint to the spicy sweet, saucy and savory chicken pieces, and with the hinge intact, the long thin bread roll is an ideal vessel for delivering these flavors.

As with the Broodje Haring we just covered, I’d surely enjoy trying one on its home turf. But this one, at least, I think I hit pretty close to the target. Any Dutch or Surinamese readers want to critique my take? Please let me know how I did in the comments!