Six colors have I Yet I am not a die Twist me around Till order is found Some moves are quick, others slow A Hasbro classic you likely know

Sun bleached by the sea, Carried by the waves I roam, A ghost on the shore.

Like margarine or lard, when stored in fridge it's hard, a salted spread, works best on bread, but also goes with pasta

You can cook noodles in me, or cook brain cells smoking me.

I have a skin but no scales, a stone but no heart, and though I am often purple, I was once a tiny white flower. If you dry me out, I change my name entirely. What am I?