Few teas carry a name as memorable as Tieguanyin. It translates to "Iron Guanyin," and it is usually rendered in English as "Iron Goddess of Mercy." Guanyin is the bodhisattva of compassion, one of the most beloved figures in Chinese Buddhism. The tea named for her is one of China's best-known oolongs, and it comes from Anxi County in Fujian Province.

Like many famous Chinese teas, Tieguanyin arrives wrapped in legend. This week we're looking at those stories, and at what the historical record actually supports.

Two legends, one tea

There are two traditional accounts of how Tieguanyin got its name, known in Chinese as the "Wei telling" and the "Wang telling."

The more famous one centers on Wei Yin, a tea farmer in Xiping, Anxi, who was devoted to Guanyin. According to the version summarized on Wikipedia, which draws on Chinese and Taiwanese sources, Guanyin appeared to Wei in a dream and guided him to an unusual tea plant growing in a crevice among the rocks. He found the plant where the dream had shown him, brought it home, and cultivated it. Because the plant came to him through Guanyin, and because the finished leaves were dark, glossy, and heavy like iron, he named the tea Tieguanyin. Some tellings, as the tea history site Oolong Tea notes, add that he raised the plant in a cracked iron pot.

Western tea sellers often tell a slightly different version, in which a poor farmer named Wei sweeps and tends a run-down temple holding an iron statue of Guanyin, and is rewarded with a tea shoot he shares with all his neighbors. Wikipedia points out that this version circulates among tea merchants in Canada and the UK but has no clear counterpart in China or Taiwan.

The second account swaps the miracle for imperial approval. In this version, a scholar named Wang Shirang found a special tea bush near his study in 1736, the first year of the Qianlong Emperor's reign. A few years later he brought the tea to Beijing as a gift. It passed through a court official to the emperor, who is said to have admired the dark, heavy leaves and named the tea after Guanyin. The UN's Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) includes this story in its heritage documentation for Anxi, and it is careful to introduce it with "according to the legend."

What history can and can't confirm

So which story is true? Probably neither, at least not literally. Oolong Tea's review of the evidence cites a Chinese-language analysis concluding that both are folk legend, and notes that no document confirms the dream, the crevice, or the emperor's tasting.

What the record does support is still impressive. According to the FAO, tea production in Anxi is believed to date back to the 10th century, and Tieguanyin itself emerged in the 18th century. The FAO also cites county records compiled during Qianlong's reign showing that Anxi tea was already supplying neighboring towns at that time.

There is even a living link to the first legend. According to People's Daily Online, tea maker Wei Yuede of Anxi is the ninth generation of his family in the tea business and traces the tea's story to his ancestor, Wei Yin.

The farming trick that made a single bush famous

A great tea plant is only useful if you can grow more of it, and tea grown from seed doesn't come out exactly like its parent.

According to the FAO, around 1640 Anxi tea farmers noticed that tea branches accidentally buried in soil could take root and sprout. From that, they developed whole-plant layering: pinning a branch to the ground so it roots while still attached to the mother plant. Later generations refined this into cutting methods, including a short-cutting technique developed in Xiping around 1935. The FAO describes Anxi as the birthplace of vegetative propagation of tea trees in China.

That matters for Tieguanyin, because it is both a tea style and a specific tea plant variety. Propagating by layering and cuttings let farmers multiply an outstanding bush with its character intact. Oolong Tea calls this the real mechanism behind the legend: however the first bush was found, cuttings are what turned it into a countywide tea.

From Anxi to Taiwan, and to world heritage

Tieguanyin's reputation eventually crossed the Taiwan Strait. According to the Taipei City Government, tea master Zhang Nai-miao brought Tieguanyin plants from Fujian in 1895 and replanted them in the hills of Muzha, in what is now Taipei. The Maokong area there is still known for its Tieguanyin, and a memorial hall in Zhang's name tells the story.

Back in Anxi, the tea has earned formal recognition. In May 2022, the FAO designated the Anxi Tieguanyin Tea Culture System a Globally Important Agricultural Heritage System, citing local farmers' traditional know-how in managing the land and producing exceptional tea leaves.

How the leaf becomes Iron Goddess

Tieguanyin is a semi-oxidized tea, sitting between green and black tea. As our Iron Goddess Oolong product page describes, the leaves are wilted in the sun and then shaken in bamboo baskets to bruise their edges, so the edges oxidize faster than the center. After a period of oxidation, the tea is fired to stop the process. Look closely at the leaves after brewing and you'll often see those slightly brownish edges.

The result is a cup that's nutty and mineral, with a lingering floral, orchid-like finish. It's also a tea that rewards patience: the same leaves can be steeped several times, and each cup shows something a little different.

Brewing a cup of the Iron Goddess

Our general guideline is 1 to 2 teaspoons (about 3 grams) per 8 ounces of water at 185 to 205°F, steeped 3 to 5 minutes. Then add more hot water to the same leaves and steep again. Pair it with dim sum, roasted nuts, or a fruit plate. As the evenings get cooler, it also makes a calm, warming cup after dinner, and it's a nice treat between handfuls of Halloween candy.

If Tieguanyin's story makes you curious about Fujian's other great oolongs, try our Wuyi Oolong, a "rock tea" from the Wuyi Mountains in the north of the province, with its own famous legend of the Big Red Robe. It's toasty, earthy, and honeyed, a fine contrast to the floral Iron Goddess.

Taste the legend

Whether you believe in Wei Yin's dream or Wang Shirang's trip to the emperor, the tea itself is the best part of the story. Brew a pot of Iron Goddess Oolong, steep it a few times, and see how the cup changes. Then explore the rest of our Oolong Tea collection to find your next favorite.

Long before trick-or-treating caught on, Halloween was a night for parties, autumn treats, and trying to peek into the future. And in many homes across Ireland, Britain, and America, the most important prop for that fortune-telling was something already on the table: a pot of tea.

This week, as the leaves turn and jack-o'-lanterns start appearing on Boston stoops, we're looking back at three old traditions that tie tea to Halloween night.

Reading the leaves: a brief history of tasseography

Tea arrived in Britain from China in the mid-1600s as an expensive luxury. As trade grew and prices fell, it became an everyday drink for ordinary households, and the leftover leaves at the bottom of the cup took on a new life. Reading the shapes those leaves formed, a practice called tasseography, became a popular way to tell fortunes. According to NPR's history of the practice, it offered a much simpler alternative to older divination methods that involved molten lead or hot wax.

The oldest English-language book on the subject, Reading Tea Leaves by a writer calling themselves "a Highland Seer," described generations of Scottish "spae wives" (from an old Norse word for prophecy) peering into teacups to see what was coming. The Victorian era was the practice's real heyday. A reader would have the drinker swirl the last bit of tea three times, turn the cup upside down on the saucer to drain, and then study the leaves left clinging inside. Leaves near the rim were said to point to the near future, and those near the bottom to events further off.

By the early 1900s, porcelain makers in England and the United States were even selling "fortune-telling cups," painted inside with zodiac signs, playing cards, or symbols, so that anyone could read a fortune by noting where the leaves landed. Atlas Obscura notes that in the 1920s, fortune-telling tearooms offering leaf readings sprang up in cities.

The Halloween tea party

In the late 1800s, Halloween in America was mostly a holiday for parties, often for adults, filled with fall foods and games meant to forecast the future, especially romance. The New-York Historical Society notes that reading tea leaves was a favorite at Halloween parties of that era, alongside games like peeling apples and dropping melted lead into water (a game we strongly suggest you skip).

Some hostesses built a whole evening around it. In 1898, the Western Mail described a "candlelight tea" for sixteen young women, with a parlor decorated in autumn leaves, fruit, nuts, ears of corn, and jack-o'-lanterns lined along the mantel. Guests found hand-painted fortune cards at each place setting. One popular tea game of the time: balance a dry spoon on the rim of your cup, then drip tea into it from a second spoon until it tips. Each drop was said to stand for one year until your wedding.

Barmbrack: Ireland's tea-soaked Halloween bread

In Ireland, the fortune-telling happened in a slice of bread. Báirín breac, usually called barmbrack, is a sweet loaf studded with dried fruit; the name means "speckled loaf." Irish families have baked it on the eve of Samhain, October 31, for generations, and the fruit is traditionally soaked in strong tea (and sometimes a splash of whiskey) before baking.

The fun was in what was hidden inside. According to the National Museum of Ireland and Ireland's official tourism sites, a barmbrack might hold several small charms, each with a meaning for whoever found it in their slice:

• A ring meant you would marry within the year.

• A coin meant wealth and good fortune.

• A pea meant no wedding that year.

• A bean meant good fortune, but without riches.

• A rag meant hard times or bad luck.

• A stick meant a quarrelsome marriage.

Today, most shop-bought barmbracks hold just a ring, but plenty of families still bake the full set at home. And if you've ever had a slice, you know it's best served toasted, buttered, and with a strong cup of tea alongside.

Brew your own Halloween traditions

You don't need a crystal ball to bring a little of this history to your table this October. A few of our teas fit right in:

• Irish Breakfast: Our robust blend of Assam and Kenya black teas is strong enough to stand up to milk and sugar, which makes it a natural partner for a buttered slice of barmbrack. Brew a strong pot and use the leftovers to soak your dried fruit, the way Irish home bakers have done for generations.

• China Black Tea: Want to try reading the leaves? Brew a loose-leaf tea right in the cup without a strainer, then leave a little liquid at the bottom, swirl, and turn the cup over. This smooth, slightly malty classic is a pleasant cup to linger over while you wait to see what shapes appear.

• Pumpkin Spiced Tea: Ceylon black tea with cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and cardamom tastes just like the autumn parlors those Victorian hostesses decorated.

• Apricot Cinnamon: A caffeine-free choice so the whole family can join in on Halloween night.

Hosting friends this month? Our Autumn Harvest Tea Box brings together a selection of fall favorites, perfect for setting out at your own candlelight tea.

Whatever you find at the bottom of your cup this Halloween, we hope it's a cozy evening and a good brew. Happy Halloween from all of us at Beantown Tea & Spices!

Sources

• For Centuries, People Have Searched for Answers in the Bottom of a Tea Cup (NPR)

• These Fortune-Telling Tea Cups Made Divination Easy (Atlas Obscura)

• Halloween History: Fortune-Telling Games (New-York Historical Society)

• A Halloween Tea Party for Unmarried Victorian Ladies (Mimi Matthews)

• Traditional Irish Halloween Báirín Breac (Ireland.ie)

• The History of Ireland's Spooky Halloween Treat, Barmbrack (Tourism Ireland)

• Halloween Traditions and Their Origins (National Museum of Ireland)

Green tea is woven into daily life in Japan, from a quick cup of sencha at the office to the slow, careful ritual of the tea ceremony. But tea isn't native to Japan. It arrived from China more than 1,200 years ago, and Japanese growers and tea masters spent centuries turning it into something all their own.

Here's a short history of how that happened, and what it means for the tea in your cup today.

Tea arrives from China (800s)

Tea first came to Japan with Buddhist monks who had studied in Tang-dynasty China. The earliest written record dates to 815, when the monk Eichū is said to have served tea to Emperor Saga. For a while tea was enjoyed at court and in temples, but it was rare and expensive, and interest faded once official ties with China cooled.

Eisai and the Zen connection (1100s)

Tea made its real comeback in 1191, when the Zen monk Eisai returned from Song-dynasty China with tea seeds and a new way of drinking it: leaves ground to a fine powder and whisked with hot water. That's the ancestor of today's matcha. Eisai also wrote one of Japan's first books on tea, Kissa Yōjōki ("Drinking Tea for Health"), and Zen monks drank tea to stay alert through long hours of meditation.

Tea gardens soon spread around Kyoto, and the nearby town of Uji became famous for high-quality tea, a reputation it still holds.

The tea ceremony takes shape (1400s–1500s)

Over the next few centuries, drinking powdered tea grew from a temple habit into an art. Tea masters such as Murata Jukō and, most famously, Sen no Rikyū shaped what we now call the Japanese tea ceremony, known as chanoyu or chadō ("the way of tea"). Rikyū favored simple, rustic tea rooms and humble utensils, and his ideas of harmony, respect, purity, and tranquility still guide the ceremony today.

In a traditional ceremony, the host heats water in an iron kettle called a kama, measures matcha into a bowl with a bamboo scoop, and whisks it with a bamboo whisk (chasen) before serving each guest. A formal gathering may also include a light meal and sweets. Every movement is deliberate, and the point is less about the tea itself than about being fully present with your guests.

Sencha becomes the everyday tea (1700s)

Matcha was the tea of temples and the elite, but most people wanted something simpler. In 1738, a tea farmer named Nagatani Sōen in Ujitawara, near Kyoto, developed a method of steaming fresh leaves and then rolling and drying them. The result was a bright green, fresh-tasting tea that you could simply steep in a pot. That tea was sencha, and it soon became the everyday tea of Japan. Steaming, instead of the pan-firing common in China, is still the hallmark of Japanese green tea.

In the 1800s, growers near Uji also began shading their tea plants for several weeks before harvest. The extra shade makes the leaves sweeter and richer in umami, and it gave rise to gyokuro, one of Japan's most prized teas.

Japanese tea today

Today sencha is by far the most popular tea in Japan, and the biggest growing regions are Shizuoka and Kagoshima, on the southern island of Kyushu. Japan also produces a whole family of green teas, each with its own character:

• Sencha: the classic steamed green tea, slightly sweet and vegetal. Ours comes from Kagoshima.

• Gyokuro: shade-grown, smooth, and deeply savory.

• Matcha: shade-grown leaves stone-ground into a fine powder and whisked, the tea of the tea ceremony.

• Genmaicha: green tea blended with toasted brown rice for a warm, nutty cup.

• Hojicha: green tea roasted to a toasty brown, naturally low in bitterness.

• Kukicha: a mellow "twig tea" made from the stems of the tea plant.

Bringing a bit of that history home

You don't need a tea room or a full ceremony to enjoy Japanese tea. Most Japanese green teas like water that's hot but not boiling, so let your kettle cool for a few minutes after it boils and keep steeps short. Each product page has the exact brewing steps for that tea. If you're new to Japanese tea, sencha is a great place to start, and our green tea selection has the rest of the family when you're ready to explore.Tea arrives from China (800s)

Tea first came to Japan with Buddhist monks who had studied in Tang-dynasty China. The earliest written record dates to 815, when the monk Eichū is said to have served tea to Emperor Saga. For a while tea was enjoyed at court and in temples, but it was rare and expensive, and interest faded once official ties with China cooled.

Eisai and the Zen connection (1100s)

Tea made its real comeback in 1191, when the Zen monk Eisai returned from Song-dynasty China with tea seeds and a new way of drinking it: leaves ground to a fine powder and whisked with hot water. That's the ancestor of today's matcha. Eisai also wrote one of Japan's first books on tea, Kissa Yōjōki ("Drinking Tea for Health"), and Zen monks drank tea to stay alert through long hours of meditation.

Tea gardens soon spread around Kyoto, and the nearby town of Uji became famous for high-quality tea, a reputation it still holds.

The tea ceremony takes shape (1400s–1500s)

Over the next few centuries, drinking powdered tea grew from a temple habit into an art. Tea masters such as Murata Jukō and, most famously, Sen no Rikyū shaped what we now call the Japanese tea ceremony, known as chanoyu or chadō ("the way of tea"). Rikyū favored simple, rustic tea rooms and humble utensils, and his ideas of harmony, respect, purity, and tranquility still guide the ceremony today.

In a traditional ceremony, the host heats water in an iron kettle called a kama, measures matcha into a bowl with a bamboo scoop, and whisks it with a bamboo whisk (chasen) before serving each guest. A formal gathering may also include a light meal and sweets. Every movement is deliberate, and the point is less about the tea itself than about being fully present with your guests.

Sencha becomes the everyday tea (1700s)

Matcha was the tea of temples and the elite, but most people wanted something simpler. In 1738, a tea farmer named Nagatani Sōen in Ujitawara, near Kyoto, developed a method of steaming fresh leaves and then rolling and drying them. The result was a bright green, fresh-tasting tea that you could simply steep in a pot. That tea was sencha, and it soon became the everyday tea of Japan. Steaming, instead of the pan-firing common in China, is still the hallmark of Japanese green tea.

In the 1800s, growers near Uji also began shading their tea plants for several weeks before harvest. The extra shade makes the leaves sweeter and richer in umami, and it gave rise to gyokuro, one of Japan's most prized teas.

Japanese tea today

Today sencha is by far the most popular tea in Japan, and the biggest growing regions are Shizuoka and Kagoshima, on the southern island of Kyushu. Japan also produces a whole family of green teas, each with its own character:

• Sencha: the classic steamed green tea, slightly sweet and vegetal. Ours comes from Kagoshima.

• Gyokuro: shade-grown, smooth, and deeply savory.

• Matcha: shade-grown leaves stone-ground into a fine powder and whisked, the tea of the tea ceremony.

• Genmaicha: green tea blended with toasted brown rice for a warm, nutty cup.

• Hojicha: green tea roasted to a toasty brown, naturally low in bitterness.

• Kukicha: a mellow "twig tea" made from the stems of the tea plant.

Bringing a bit of that history home

You don't need a tea room or a full ceremony to enjoy Japanese tea. Most Japanese green teas like water that's hot but not boiling, so let your kettle cool for a few minutes after it boils and keep steeps short. Each product page has the exact brewing steps for that tea. If you're new to Japanese tea, sencha is a great place to start, and our green tea selection has the rest of the family when you're ready to explore.

Earl Grey is one of the most recognizable teas in the world. One sip and you know it: a black tea scented with oil of bergamot, a citrus fruit that tastes somewhere between a lemon, an orange, and a grapefruit, with a bright, floral edge.

It's also one of the most-searched teas on our site, so it seemed right to tell its story. The short version: the name comes from a real British prime minister, but much of the rest is legend.

Who was Earl Grey?

The tea is named after Charles Grey, the 2nd Earl Grey, who served as Britain's prime minister from 1830 to 1834. He's best remembered for the Reform Act of 1832, which overhauled Britain's voting system, and for the abolition of slavery across most of the British Empire during his time in office.

The legends

There are a few popular stories about how a prime minister ended up with a tea named after him.

• The grateful mandarin. The most famous tale says a Chinese official sent the earl a gift of bergamot-scented tea after one of Grey's men saved the official's son. It's a nice story, but there's no evidence for it, and Grey never traveled to China.

• The hard water. Another story says a Chinese tea master blended the tea for the Grey family home, Howick Hall in Northumberland, using bergamot to balance the taste of the local water. The family's guests loved it, and Lady Grey served it in London society.

Several British tea merchants have claimed to have the original recipe over the years, and nobody has been able to prove it.

What the record actually shows

Tea flavored with bergamot was already being sold in Britain by the 1820s, sometimes to make lower-grade tea taste like a more expensive one. But the name "Earl Grey" doesn't show up in print until the 1880s, decades after the earl's death in 1845. So the honest answer is that bergamot tea came first, and the famous name got attached to it later, probably as clever marketing.

What is bergamot?

Bergamot is a small, fragrant citrus fruit grown mostly along the coast of Calabria, in southern Italy. The fruit is too sour to eat out of hand, but the oil pressed from its peel is wonderfully aromatic. It's used in perfume as well as in tea, which is why a good Earl Grey smells so lovely the moment you open the bag.

Earl Grey today

Modern Earl Grey is almost always made with black tea, though you'll also find green tea and rooibos versions. Our classic Earl Grey blends premium black tea with bergamot oil, citrus peels, and blue cornflower petals. It's bright and refreshing, and it's lovely with pastries and cake. It comes in a sample size (about 5 cups) as well as 4 oz, 8 oz, and 1 lb bags.

If you like the classic, try one of its cousins:

• Cream Earl Grey, smoothed out with a touch of vanilla.

• Decaf Cream Earl Grey, for an evening cup.

• Lavender Earl Grey, with a soft floral note.

How to brew Earl Grey

• Use 1 rounded teaspoon of loose leaf (about 2–3 grams) per 8 ounces of water.

• Pour freshly boiled water (205–212°F) over the leaves.

• Steep for 3–5 minutes, then taste and adjust.

Earl Grey is great on its own, with a slice of lemon, or with a splash of milk. For iced Earl Grey and a homemade London Fog latte, see our guide on how to brew Earl Grey three ways.

Two centuries after Charles Grey left office, nobody can say for sure how his name ended up on a tin of tea. But it's easy to see why the tea itself stuck around.