I guard what’s gold but taste like none, A hollow coat for what’s to come. Strip me off, the truth you’ll see I hide the prize, yet I am key. What am I?

Though made as two, I work as one, my task begins when I’m undone. I open wide, then close with grace, leaving neat cuts in my place.

a piggy for a rainy day. the sloping curve of a racetrack. a quick turning aerial manoeuvre. where water meets higher ground. storage depots for things like food, clothing and even bodily fluids like blood and sperm.

I’m not quite sweet, I’m not quite plain, I rise with help from a tiny grain. I bubble, I grow, I take my time, Then come out golden, crisp, and fine. With a tangy twist in every bite, I make a loaf that feels just right. What am I?

I’m a sunny sip in a breakfast glass, Made from a fruit with a citrusy class. I’m squeezed from a sphere with a peel so bright, I wake up your taste buds with morning delight. What am I?