Apple Crumble Coffee Cake made with flour, sugar, butter, sour cream, apples, cinnamon, brown sugar, and pecans.

There’s something about Apple Crumble Coffee Cake that just gets people. It’s not flashy. It’s not trying to trend on social media. It’s just… there. Warm. Comforting. Sitting on the counter like it belongs. And somehow, every time I make it, someone ends up cutting a slice before it’s fully cooled. Every. Single. Time.

I’m not mad about it. Slightly warm coffee cake is kind of the point, right?

I didn’t grow up with Apple Crumble Coffee Cake as a thing. It wasn’t a passed-down recipe or a holiday tradition. It sort of snuck into my life quietly—like a song you don’t notice at first and then suddenly you’re humming it all the time.

I remember the first time I made it was after a random grocery run. I had apples. Too many apples. The kind you buy because they look good and then forget about until they start silently judging you from the fruit bowl. Pie felt like too much effort. Muffins felt… boring? Coffee cake felt right. Low pressure. No rules.

I pulled it out of the oven, and the smell—cinnamon, butter, apples—just hit. It reminded me of slow weekends, of kitchens that feel lived-in, of sitting at the table longer than planned. I cut into it too early (because of course I did), and it was soft, steamy, and perfect in that not-quite-polished way.

That’s when I knew this Apple Crumble Coffee Cake was sticking around.

Why you’ll Love this Apple Crumble Coffee Cake?

Here’s the thing. This coffee cake doesn’t rely on one big wow moment. It’s the combination that makes it special.

You’ve got the base: a soft, tender cake that stays moist thanks to sour cream. Then the apples—slightly tart, a little juicy, not mushy. And then the crumble. Oh, the crumble. Buttery, cinnamon-y, a little crunchy, a little clumpy. It’s not neat, and honestly? That’s what makes it good.

And the glaze? I go back and forth on it. Some days I drizzle it. Some days I skip it. Both are valid life choices. The glaze adds a little extra sweetness and apple flavor, but the cake can absolutely stand on its own.

This Apple Crumble Coffee Cake feels like something you bring to brunch and someone asks, “Who made this?” And then quietly takes another piece.

Ingredient Notes

Let’s talk ingredients without making it feel like homework.

• All-Purpose Flour: Nothing fancy. Just measure it carefully. I’ve eyeballed it before. Sometimes it works, sometimes… less so.
• Granulated Sugar & Brown Sugar: White sugar keeps the cake light, brown sugar brings that deep, cozy flavor to the crumble and glaze. They both have jobs.
• Butter: Melted butter makes this recipe feel forgiving. No creaming, no mixers if you don’t want them.
• Sour Cream: This is non-negotiable for me. It gives the cake that soft, almost bakery-style crumb. Greek yogurt works, but sour cream feels… right.
• Granny Smith Apples: I like the tartness. It balances the sweetness. Sweeter apples are fine, but the cake changes a bit. Not bad. Just different.
• Cinnamon: Warm, familiar, comforting. Enough to notice, not enough to overpower.
• Pecans: Optional. I love the crunch, but I’ll admit—sometimes I skip them if I’m feeling lazy or feeding picky eaters.

Sound familiar? Adjusting recipes based on mood is very real.

How to Make Apple Crumble Coffee Cake?

This is not a delicate recipe. It’s pretty forgiving, which is part of the charm.

Step 1. Get Set Up

Heat your oven to 350°F and grease a 9×13-inch pan. This cake likes room to spread out. It’s not here to be tall.

Step 2. Mix the Dry Stuff

In a big bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and sugar. No need to be aggressive. Just mix it.

Step 3. Make the Batter

Add the melted butter, sour cream, eggs, and vanilla. Stir until smooth. Stop once it looks combined. Overmixing just makes things weird.

Spread the batter evenly in the pan.

Step 4. Add the Apples

Sprinkle the diced apples over the batter. Don’t press them down. They’ll sink a bit on their own, like they know what to do.

Step 5. Crumble Time

Mix together the flour, brown sugar, pecans, cinnamon, salt, and melted butter until crumbly. It should look a little messy. That’s perfect.

Sprinkle it generously over the apples. If some pieces are bigger than others, even better.

Step 6. Bake

Bake for 40–45 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. The top should be golden and crisp, and your kitchen will smell like you’ve got your life together. (Even if you don’t.)

Step 7. Glaze (Optional… Kind Of)

Heat the brown sugar, apple cider, and butter until melted and smooth. Drizzle over the warm cake.

Serve warm. Or not. Both are good.

Storage Options

Apple Crumble Coffee Cake holds up really well.

Cover it and keep it at room temperature for up to 2 days, or refrigerate for up to 5 days. It reheats beautifully—especially if you warm it just enough to soften the crumble again.

You can freeze slices, too. Wrap them well, freeze up to 2 months, and thaw when needed. Future-you will be grateful.

Variations & Substitutions

This cake is flexible, which I appreciate.

• Swap pecans for walnuts or leave nuts out.
• Add nutmeg or cardamom if you’re feeling fancy.
• Use Greek yogurt instead of sour cream.
• Try pears instead of apples for a softer, sweeter version.

I once added a tiny splash of maple syrup to the glaze. Not planned. Not traditional. Zero regrets.

What to Serve With Apple Crumble Coffee Cake?

This cake doesn’t ask for much.

• Coffee (obviously).
• Tea, especially something spiced.
• Fresh fruit if you want balance.
• Vanilla ice cream if you’re serving it as dessert and feeling bold.

Or just eat it as-is. Standing at the counter. Fork optional.

FAQ

Can I make it ahead of time?
Yes—and honestly, it’s even better the next day.

Do I have to use Granny Smith apples?
No, but they give the best balance. Honeycrisp and Pink Lady work too.

Is the glaze necessary?
Technically no. Emotionally… maybe.

Is this breakfast or dessert?
Both. Coffee cake lives outside of time.

There’s something comforting about Apple Crumble Coffee Cake. It’s not perfect. It’s not fancy. It’s just good. The kind of good that makes people linger a little longer at the table.

If you make this, tell me—did you wait for it to cool, or did you cut into it early like I always do?