A sobering lesson to me not to kill infants. The youthful oakiness has receded somewhat, appearing as a cinnamon-apple spice in the background. What’s up front is soy-marinated smoked meat, lilacs, and black licorice. But we could sense more, much more, locked away in a tannic embrace that may take another decade to loosen; the length and finish were impressive but not yet as well-defined as one could hope. A great wine for which it isn’t time. I’m going to write 100 times, “I will not open any more ’91 Grandes Places for ten more years,” as punishment for statutory grape.