Once upon a time in Fujian lived a poor farmer. One day, as he went to tend his fields, he passed by a shrine. He peered inside and could hardly believe his eyes. A carpet of leaves and dust covered the floor, thick cobwebs wrapped every corner and the crumbling walls were gray with centuries of grime. Forgotten in a corner, an iron statue of Kuan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy, presided over the ruins of her temple. The man was horrified.

�??This no way to worship you,�?� he told the statue. �??I don�??t have enough money to repair the temple�??s walls, but I�??ll do my best to honor you with what I have.�?�

Every day, he swept the floor, cleaned the walls and lit the incense. Soon the shrine looked tidy, if not new. One night, as the man slept, Kuan Yin came to him in his dreams.
�??It is time to reward all you have done for me,�?� she said. �??Tomorrow, go to the little cave behind my shrine and you will find something for you.�?�

The man did as he was told and found a tea shoot. He tended it carefully and it grew into a luxuriant bush, whose leaves yielded a marvellous tea. Grateful for this bounty, the man named the tea after the goddess, calling it Ti Kuan Yin, the Iron Goddess of Mercy.

The story doesn�??t mar its poetry by saying whether the man became hugely rich by selling his tea�??but he should have done. Ti Kuan Yin is by far one of the best oolongs in mainland China and one of the country�??s ten best teas.

For some inexplicable reason, today I felt the urge to brew it gong fu style. Nothing wrong with the idea itself�??this method, which calls for short, multiple infusions, is commonly used for oolongs in China and Taiwan. But gong fu means skill from practice�??and practice is something I definitely don�??t have. Calling myself a beginner is already a gross exaggeration. But this insane need gripped me, so I ignored the instructions that Special Teas had lovingly included with my Superior Ti Kuan Yin sample, turning instead to Stephane Erler�??s Teamasters blog for a crash course on gong fu.

This chap is learning from the pros in Taiwan and does a marvellous job of sharing his knowledge with the rest of us through videos, text and pictures. He was my only hope to make a reasonably decent tea. I duly rinsed my gaiwan, pitcher and cup with hot water, and placed the leaves to cover the bottom of the gaiwan. Then I put the kettle on and waited for the crab�??s eyes, though I am not sure I got it right.When the bubbles started rising from the bottom, I poured it into the gaiwan and tried to replicate the trick I saw in Stephane�??s video.

Let�??s say my leaves didn�??t quite dance. Oh and the kitchen was covered in water because I had omitted to follow his crucial suggestion of placing a towel under the gaiwan. I waited five breaths and poured the tea into the pitcher. Oh my goodness, the scent of it. It was the fragrance of honeysuckle at night. My cup was a crystal clear golden with that fantastic floral aroma. Not as strong as in the pitcher and perhaps with a fleeting note of something vegetaley but still like walking through honeysuckle vines. It was obviously sweet on the tip of the tongue but became quickly floral with an astringent finish. A really, really, really good tea with a fine balance of elegance and flavor, like Van Gogh�??s Irises.

Elated by this success, I promptly proceeded to flood the kitchen some more with my second and third gongfu infusions, which yielded a more astringent tea with no hint of sweetness but still that wonderful floral quality.

I fell in love with Ti Kuan Yin and fell in love with gong fu. I am hoping that if I practice it with devotion the goddess will reward me too.