It is about to rain, the dusky blue sky fast morphing into a menacing deep charcoal, and although I can’t understand what the two men speaking Romanian are saying, the expressions on their faces convey relief. On this late Friday afternoon, they have escaped the brooding weather—and their offices—to ensconce themselves at a table with glasses of just-poured red wine. As one of them reaches for a sip, thunder roars, and another guy walks through the door to peruse the precise rows of bottles on the wooden shelves, contemplating tonight’s spontaneous pick. Both a wine bar and well-stocked shop, petite Carpe Diem is a casual, library-like oenophile hangout in Chișinău, the capital of Moldova.

Carpe Diem also has a winery of the same name, which turns out such varieties as the delightfully dry white Feteasca Regală, and Bad Boys, a blend of plummy Feteasca Neagra and inky Saperavi grapes. But among Carpe Diem’s more than 150 selections, there are other Moldovan producers on display, like Novak and Chateau Vartely. About a 15-minute-walk away is Embargo Wine Bar, an upbeat spot with charcuterie plates, chalkboard menus, and a bar lined with bottles from Moldovan producers such as Chateau Cristi and Minis Terrios. Dan Prisacaru founded the latter, a small company with an impressive portfolio of wines including the lush Merlot-Cabernet Sauvignon blend Negru Împărat. When I meet him there after my guided tasting at Carpe Diem he is animated. He explains the thoughtful process behind the creation of one of his striking labels, pauses to check if his vineyard is currently getting pounded with rain like it is in Chișinău, and tells me how Moldovan wine has evolved.