my golden oil can be considered a sacrifice in a volcano, cultivated by the gods of olympus. What am I?

What kind of milk do you get from a cow that’s been udderly pampered?

I'm soft and comfy, and I'm known to keep you warm, though your arms remain free, of my supple embrace. Now I hope you see the answer, but don't forget one thing, that second letter E, should in fact be an A. I stretch across large areas, I am sorry to confuse, I wanted to see, who can read better than me.

A flavor, some think as plain But brings taste to cookies and cake Imagine the taste, it shouldn't be a strain It's in so many things you want to bake.

You spin and twist, I stay true to my aim. Some built into wrist, a cardinal fame. I point to the tip, on your planet’s plane. Magnetic in fields, showing due, is my game.