The roast arrives still whole and warm, while hungry faces meet. Before the forks can play their part, I’m asked to carve the meat.

Made for burning slices, but the right time is key. The temperature rises for a golden brown to be.

I have no mouth, yet I swallow entire hills. I have no hands, yet I measure the hours. The stars above outnumber me, though I cover the world below. A mountain’s heavy weight, yet a gentle breeze can move me. Build me high, and a simple wave will steal my crown; Heat me hot, and you can see right through me.

Buckle, loop, asteroid. Conveyor, timing, fan. Bible, corn, black. Championship.

What has ten letters and starts with gas?