When things would head north, but mistaken, head south, Wine's spilt in your shoes, and your foot's in your mouth, What am I, that slips quick, twists and mixes you up? For there's many a slip, 'twixt the lip and the cup

I am described by my velocity, a blow of gust. But I'm merely an element, when I'm just.

I’m thicker and fluffier than my crispy biscuit sibling. I’m ironed rather than fried or baked. Criss-crossed, that’s me!

A treasure found in salads and martinis alike, Green or black, it brings flavor to every bite. The original peace symbol, I'm a star not so hammily, Come to my Garden - when you're here, you're family.

I have no start and I have no end, I’m worn as a promise, passed to a friend. I can make a sound or quietly shine. What am I?