First, you throw away the outside and cook the inside then you eat the outside and throw away the inside

I am produced by buzzing creatures, needed by cupric features, done by verbose teachers, and mimicked by Selene's reaches.

I could make butter, money, or life, Or be locked away if I cause too much strife Though the plainest form grows on a tree, There are many meanings of me

A league of jagged blades, Though no steel lines their edges, Fine or frayed, domestic glade, Twixt links of chain or hedges

I’m sounded as a warning to others around. Before battle, while driving, by bikes on the ground. A French one of me makes beautiful tones. Some animals use me to defend their homes.