Answer:
You throw away my outside you cook my inside. Then you eat my outside and you throw away my inside.
My voice is tender my waist is slender and I'm often invited to play. Yet wherever I go I must take my bow or else I have nothing to say.
I am the place to turn when nature calls.
I am bought by the yard but worn by the foot. What am I?
I can be repeated but rarely in the same way. I can't be changed but can be rewritten. I can be passed down but should not be forgotten.
Why was the cook arrested?