Dutch Apple Pie Muffins

Dutch Apple Pie Muffins are the perfect meeting point between tradition and comfort. It is a perfect twist on a classic dessert with roots that stretch back centuries. Inspired by the Dutch apple pie or Appeltaart, these muffins carry the essence of old-world baking. The tender apples, warm cinnamon, and a buttery crumble topping that brings just the right amount of texture and sweetness.

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The Dutch have long cherished apple pie as a symbol of home and hospitality. Unlike its American cousin, Dutch apple pie is often deeper, packed with spiced fruit, and topped with a rustic crumb or lattice. These muffins capture that same soul-warming flavour in a more accessible, everyday form that is easy to bake and even easier to share.

Disclaimer: This is not for the weak-hearted ones out there. If you're sensitive to violence and manipulation, please skip this section: Skip

I met Anna a few weeks after she was hired as a junior analyst. She was bright-eyed and chatty. And she seemed instantly drawn to me. I brushed it off to the open layout of our office. We sat just two desks apart, but looking back, maybe she’d picked me out long before I noticed her.

For me, motherhood, work, and routine did not leave much room for socialising. And I had not had a close female friend in years. Her presence filled a quiet space I had not noticed was empty. As we just clicked…

We started having lunch together almost every day. Then drinks after work. She came to birthday parties, weekend barbecues, and school events when Matt couldn’t make it. Anna seemed to slip into my life as if there had always been room for her. And maybe, in some strange way, there had been.

At first, it felt harmless. Comforting, even. She was good with my daughter Liilly, patient and playful, and always seemed to anticipate what I needed before I asked. She noticed when I was tired and stepped in. She remembered things Matt forgot. When I fell behind on laundry, she folded it without asking. When Lilly had a nightmare, Anna was the one who held her hand until she fell asleep.

But somewhere along the way, her edges softened. The eyeliner faded. The hair changed. The clothes shifted. Without comment, she began wearing the same tones I did, the same subtle makeup, even my preferred scent. I told myself it was unconscious flattery, if anything. People rub off on each other. That’s what friendship is.

But she began to move like me. Speak like me. Laugh like me. She picked up my expressions, my posture, even the way I tilted my head when I was thinking. It was unnerving, but never overt enough to name.

And somehow, people seemed to love her for it.

At work, she rose quickly, always helpful, always agreeable. At home, she became a fixture. Lilly asked for her often. Matt invited her to stay late. She never overstepped, not in a way I could point to. But her presence began to press in on mine. I found her fingerprints on my routines, her voice in my daughter’s stories, her scent on Matt’s jacket after late dinners.

I started to question myself. It all felt so subtle, so gradual. She didn’t take anything. She just became it. Became me.

The worst part was how natural it all seemed. No raised voices. No betrayal. Just a slow, quiet erosion of my place.

Lilly called her “Mommy” once by accident. A tiny slip of the tongue. Anna laughed, gently corrected her, and changed the subject. No one mentioned it again.

I thought maybe I was imagining things. But imagination doesn’t explain why I started to feel like a guest in my own home. Why did Lilly cling to Anna’s leg when she scraped her knee? Why did Matt seem to listen more when she spoke? Why, when I looked at our family photos, Anna was always centred, always glowing?

It wasn’t malice. It was precision. A slow occupation.

By the time I realised what was happening, there was nothing left to confront. She hadn’t stolen anything. She’d simply stepped into the spaces I hadn’t defended, spaces I assumed were mine by default.

As I am looking in the mirror, I do not recognise myself. Was it me? Or was it, Anna?...

…I avoided looking in the mirror for weeks. I did not trust it, it showed a face I did not feel. A smile I did not make. And tonight, as I stood over the body, covered in sweat and shaking, I still was not sure which one of us had bled.

It was quiet, no screaming, no struggle. She looked at me with something like relief, like she knew it would come to this. Her mouth opened, just slightly, as if to say something, maybe “I’m sorry,” maybe “thank you.” But I did not let her finish…

I buried her behind the old garden shed, under the stones where the grass had died years ago. I washed the blood from my hands and the knife. Then I walked back home.

The house was quiet, familiar. Things are better now. Matt holds me again. Lilly clings to my hand. The house feels like mine.

And yet… sometimes, in the middle of the night, I wake up unsure. My reflection flickers, strange and unfamiliar. My voice sounds like an echo of someone else’s. I wear my clothes, but they hang differently now. I catch myself using phrases I never did, laughing in ways that does not feel like mine.

Last week, Lilly looked up at me, sleepy, voice soft and said, “You smell like Anna again.” I smiled. Kissed her forehead. 

But later, standing in the mirror, I whispered to myself just to hear it out loud, “I killed her, “ “I’m still here.”

But something inside me asks, Are you sure? Because when I close my eyes, I can still feel her watching. 

And sometimes… I wonder whose memories I’m living.

Each bite of the muffins brings a balance of soft, moist crumb from apple mousse and milk, the gentle note of fresh diced apples kissed with lemon, and a cinnamon-sugar top that melts into golden crumbs. Perfect for cool mornings, afternoon tea, or simply when you need a taste of something familiar and the scent of apples and cinnamon helps to anchor in something real. Sometimes, the kitchen is the only place that feels like yours.

Let’s make it together.

Ingredients

For the muffins:

• 280g All-purpose flour

• 2 tsp Baking powder

• ½ tsp Baking soda 

• ½  tsp Salt

• 1½ tsp Cinnamon

• 160g Brown sugar

• 2 eggs

• 250g Unsweetened apple mousse

• 115ml Milk

• 6 tbsp oil

• 2 medium-sized apples

• Lemon juice

• Cinnamon for topping

For the crumb topping:

• 30g All-purpose flour

• 25g Oats

• 2 tbsp sugar

• 2 tbsp brown sugar

• ⅛ tsp salt

• 55g Unsalted butter

Method

1. Preheat the oven to 220 °C. Prepare the muffin pan by lining it with baking paper or butter.

2. Make the crumb topping by mixing all the dry ingredients together - flour, sugar, brown sugar, salt, and oats in a small mixing bowl. 

3. When the dry ingredients are properly mixed, work the butter into the dry ingredients until the mixture holds together in a clump when pressed together with fingers. 

4. You should have no dry ingredients still powdery in the bowl. 

5. Cover and set aside in the refrigerator until ready to use.

6. Dice the apple and sprinkle and toss with a few squeezes of some lemon juice before starting to make the muffin batter.

7. This is done to prevent browning.

8. Make the muffin batter. In a large bowl, combine dry ingredients - flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and cinnamon.

9. In a separate bowl, whisk brown sugar, eggs, apple mousse, milk and oil.

10. Add the wet mixture to the dry ingredients and stir until the mixture is evenly mixed.

11. Evenly divide the mixture into the cupcake liners, filling each to about ⅔ to the top.  

12. Pile diced apples on top of the batter and lightly sprinkle with cinnamon.

13. Then add the crumb topping on top of the apples. 

14. Bake at 220 °C  for 5 minutes, then immediately lower the heat to 190 °C  (without opening the oven). Bake for an additional 15-20 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the centre comes out with a few moist crumbs attached. 

15. When the cupcakes are done baking, allow them to cool in the baking tin for 10 minutes. Then carefully remove from the pan and move to a cooling rack, allowing them to cool completely.

Enjoy!