So I will start the stories, of which there could be numerous because Mrs. Trussell was such a fun and entertaining person.  I am the (best, and only) son-in-law, and can attest to how great a cook she was because a lot of my extra weight is from being around her and she insisting that I eat her wonderful food.  But as she got a little older, there were occaisional issues like the time she was visiting at our home in Texas and I wanted a blueberry cobbler.  So we assembled the ingredients and she went to work cooking on it while Norma and I were off doing other things.  She fixed it and put it in the oven and it came out piping hot and smelling and looking wonderful as all her cooking usually did.  I helped myself to a nice portion and adding some ice cream and made her and Norma a bowl of it also. Well, on about the second bite, I began to notice it had a funny "whang" to it, and even though the ice cream had cooled it off, my mouth was beginning to tingle all the way down to my stomach.  A third bite confirmed there was something really different about this cobbler.  Then I had a thought:  she had asked me where the cinnamon was and I was upstairs and told her from our balcony it was in the spice drawer, which I had seen her open up from above and get the cinnamon out.  So I went to the spice drawer to look and, low and behold, guess what was on top in the middle?  It was the red chili pepper powder that was in a container that looked a whole lot like the cinnamon container.  So I held it up and asked her if this was the cinnamon she put in the cobbler and we were both in tears of laughter at her addition of "chili powder" cinnamon to the dish!  Needless to say, this was the "hottest" blueberry cobbler we ever ate...Texas Style!