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From The Washington Post
 "Oh my goodness, the guy lived so large," Betsey Apple is saying. She
is in her kitchen in Georgetown, studying a photo of her late husband,
the fabled New York Times political correspondent and food
anthropologist known to readers as R.W. Apple Jr. and to just about
everybody else as "Johnny."
The snapshot captures the journalist with the famously prodigious
appetite and enviably enormous expense account in his element: at the
end of yet another marathon meal at some fabulous Tuscan restaurant on
a summer day several years back. He is wearing a sated, nearly
saturated look. There are a staggering number of glasses on the table.
"Notice there's no wine left in them," Betsey says.
Despite his most Dionysian efforts, Johnny Apple didn't actually drink the world dry. When he died of complications from thoracic cancer in 2006, at 71, he still had hundreds of unopened bottles of fine wine (some much finer than others) stored at his weekend retreat in
Gettysburg, Pa., and his main residence, an old Georgetown house.
Betsey Apple is now preparing to sell those bottles, through an
auction house or to an individual collector. No matter who winds up
with the wine, the five-figure transaction will be freighted with
nostalgia.
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