Last updated September of 2026
The XIAOFUDI website is a working bakehouse for enterprise systems, run for the benefit of operators of Stroop Dutch Waffles, LLC across the United States. This page names the terms on which the shop is open, the ground rules of the counter, and the limits of what the bakehouse promises. The company that stands behind these words is Stroop Dutch Waffles, LLC of 230 E Wilson Ave, Salt Lake City - 84115-1936, United States (US), and the developer who built and tends the doors is StroopWaffle.
Reading these pages and placing an order slip counts as agreement to the terms laid out below. They are written in plain words on purpose. A shop that bids you welcome with a riddle in the doorway is a shop that has something to hide behind the hinge, and this bakehouse would rather lay its whole rule book on the counter where you can bend over it and squint at your ease.
Agreement to these terms
By entering the bakehouse, by reading past this title, by pressing on the service pages, or by placing an order slip on the contact counter, you agree to be bound by these terms. They form the ground rules of the visit, the same way a baker expects a guest to mind the heat of the iron and the polish on the floor. If you do not agree with any line of this page, the honest course is to close the door quietly and read no further.
These terms apply to every corner of the site, from the home page through the service notes to the order slip at the end, and they travel with you whether you come on a phone, a tablet or a heavy desk screen. They are also the terms of the first conversation that opens between us at the counter, until the moment a paid engagement begins, at which point a fuller contract takes over the run.
Where a sentence below is too small to read at a glance, the meaning still stands at full height. Nothing in this page is meant to trip a careful reader, and if you find a sentence that seems to cut against the plain sense of the rest, write to us at mail@xiaofudi.lat and we will untangle it across the wood rather than let it snag you later.
Who runs the shop
The bakehouse called XIAOFUDI is operated by Stroop Dutch Waffles, LLC, a company with its letter box at 230 E Wilson Ave, Salt Lake City - 84115-1936, United States (US). The developer who shaped the oven wall, turned the check grids, and keeps the whole kitchen breathing is StroopWaffle. For the purposes of these terms, the words we and our point to the company and the developer acting as one hand that minds the same counter.
The shop is not a maker of waffles in the way the name might first suggest. The waffle words are the picture of the house, and the real work of the counter is designing and running computer integrated systems for people who operate waffle businesses. That work reaches enterprises, bakeries and operators of Stroop Dutch Waffles across the United States, and the terms below speak to that true craft.
Anyone who reads the site stands on the guest side of the counter. Some guests stay guests for years and never place a single slip; others press the iron on their first visit. Both are welcome, and the rules below keep the same floor steady for both kinds of visitor.
Use of the bakehouse website
We welcome you to read the pages, to study the service notes, to look at the way the oven wall scrolls away and to come back as often as the season turns. You may browse freely, share a link to a page with a friend, and keep a private copy of anything on the site for your own quiet study. What we ask in return is that the oven be treated with care.
You agree not to use the site to break the floors of the bakehouse. You will not try to force a locked door, to flood the order slip with a swarm of false notes, to scrape the pages into a barrel for resale, to plant a trap in the counter, or to pretend to be someone else while standing at our door. A guest who does any of these things will be asked to leave, and the door may be barred against a return.
The bakehouse is built for grown and polite use. We do not promise the pages will never stumble, because no honest shop makes that boast, but we do promise to mend a broken page swiftly when it is called to our notice. If the oven falls silent for a breath or two under a heavy rush, that is the ordinary breathing of any web stove, not a breach of these terms.
Who owns the oven and the recipes
The words, the pictures, the mark XIAOFUDI, the amber and cream tone of the wall, the shape of the slabs and the general look and feel of the bakehouse all belong to the company and to StroopWaffle unless a line below says otherwise. One swallow of an image does not make the ox yours, and one happy morning on the home page does not hand you leave to rebuild the whole shop in a different town.
You may quote a short line of a page if you name where it came from and link back to the counter, the same courtesy a guest pays a recipe book in the kitchen. You may not take whole sections, the look of the slabs, the logotype, or any part that could fool a reader into thinking our bakehouse was your own.
Nothing on these pages gives you a right in the trademark or the trade dress, and no page of internet air can hand over ownership of a recipe by the act of being read. If you would like to build with our words or our look in some proper way, ask at the counter first instead of helping yourself from the pantry shelf.
Order slips and what they mean
When you place an order slip on the contact page, you are not yet hiring the bakehouse. You are leaning over the counter to ask a question or to describe a batch you think you might want pressed. An order slip costs nothing, obliges you to nothing, and obliges us only to be polite, to read it in turn, and to give a real answer within two working days.
Because the slip composes in your own mail reader rather than in a hidden web form, the moment you press the amber button is a statement that you choose to send that message. We rely on that choice, and we treat it as your own words about your own business, freely given and gladly read.
Do not put a secret on an order slip. An ordinary email is not a sealed vault, and though we guard our side of the counter well, no guest should write a password or an intimate secret on a note with wings. Keep the weighty things for a contract that has officially begun, where the full closet of protections can be drawn shut around them.
Enquiries and no cover charge for a question
The first press of an enquiry is free, warm and without a little bell asking for a coin. You may write to ask what a batch would look like, whether a certain tired iron can be saved, how a cloud oven is usually lit, or what a single station tends to cost. Each such question earns a fair answer, and no question is so small that it is turned away at the sill.
We answer in the order the slips arrive, like trays set down in turn, and we do not hurry a visitor who needs to ask a second question or a third. An enquiry that wanders off into a long, unpaid planning session is the only kind that may be gently pulled back to the counter, because no shop can press an endless free batch without ever striking a bill.
When an enquiry does grow into a wish to hire the bakehouse, the exchange moves from these general terms to a specific proposal, described further below. That is the natural seam where a handshake turns into a contract, and it is worth marking clearly so both sides know which rules are playing.
Paid engagements become their own contracts
These web page terms govern the reading of the site and the opening conversation. Real project work is a bigger loaf and deserves its own written recipe. When an enquiry becomes an engagement, we will set out a separate work agreement that names the scope of the batch, the price, the layers of the schedule, and the shape of delivery.
That separate agreement is the true contract for the work. Where it speaks, it stands above these page terms for the matters it covers, and where it is silent we expect these house rules to fill the quiet corners. If a line in the work agreement ever rubs against a line here, the written agreement for that job is the louder voice between the two.
Nothing in an order slip or a phone call at the counter counts as a binding contract for a full engagement. Only a signed or clearly accepted work agreement closes the deal, and we will say clearly when a batch has truly begun so there is never a season of doubt about what has been promised against what is only still cooling.
Services and their helpful limits
The six stations named across the site are enterprise systems integration, custom software architecture, cloud infrastructure design, legacy system modernisation, data pipeline engineering and IT service management platforms. These lines describe the family of work the bakehouse undertakes for operators of Stroop Dutch Waffles, LLC. They are honest signs over the doors, not an endless promise to fix every machine in the world.
A description of a station is a doorway, not a deed. Reading that we design cloud infrastructure does not mean every cloud question is answered for free or that every system is guaranteed to rise like a souffle. Each station turns real only through a specific scope agreed in a work contract, and the reach of a job is the reach that the written agreement names.
We serve the whole United States and do not turn away a client on the far side of a state line. The developer works at the speed of its own careful stove, and a custom architecture is not a microwave plate that lands in an instant. Helpful limits are part of honest craft: we say when a station is beyond our sour, rather than over-promising and under-delivering like a showy oven.
Prices, estimates and how the bill is struck
The contact page shows no prices, and there is a good reason: every batch is a different shape, and honest bakers price by the loaf, not by a single figure nailed to the wall for all seasons. What we give freely at the counter is an estimate, a careful guess, never a final bill written in stone before the batch has even been measured.
When you press the iron on a real engagement, the work agreement sets the price and the way it is paid, whether by a fixed fee for a settled batch or by a fair hourly turn of the timer for work that cannot be bounded with a tape measure. An estimate that later meets a wider or a narrower road is not held against the guest; it is restated plainly before the extra mile is walked.
We charge no hidden tray fees. What is agreed is what is invoiced, and every invoice names the work it pays for so a guest can check it against the batch that came off the rack. If an invoice ever seems to count a tray we never pressed, point it out the same day and we will mend the book without a fuss.
Accepting a proposal and starting the run
A proposal comes to a guest as a written work agreement, laid on the counter for a calm read. Accepting that proposal in the way the agreement names, by a signature, a clear typed yes, or the payment term the agreement states, is the moment the batch is truly booked. Before that yes the bakehouse speaks but does not yet bake.
We may in rare and polite cases turn a batch away, and any good guest may do the same before the yes has landed. Once the batch is booked, both sides owe the run a steady hand: the guest owes a clear scope and honest keys to its own machines, and we owe the careful press the proposal promised.
Starting the run does not force the whole season into one great pan. Work proceeds in numbered batches, each with its own turn of the timer, so a guest always sees the current slab on the rack and can call a halt or a change before the next tray is poured. A staged run is a kinder run for both sides of the counter.
The client duties at the counter
A bakehouse can only bake the dough it is given. A client agrees to provide the genuine keys its own systems need, to answer reasonable questions about its own shop within a sensible span, and to give a steady contact who can make a decision when a decision is called for. A client who withholds every dial and then complains the iron would not turn is blaming the pan for its own locked door.
The client also stands guard over its own secrets. Where a project touches a client secret, the client should keep the vault keys close and tell us which shelves are precious, so we can make our own hold of them tender. No bakehouse can guess which crumb is sacred unless it is told.
Should a client delay a needed answer for long weeks, the schedule breathes accordingly rather than buckling. We will say when a delay is pushing the batch, because a quiet schedule is no kindness to a guest who believes its waffle is about to land when the dough in fact still waits on the proofing board.
Delivery, batches and reasonable turns of the timer
Delivery on the site pages means the delivery of a working answer to the counter enquiry, which we promise within two working days. Delivery on a real engagement means the hand over of a finished or a staged piece of work, at the pace the work agreement names. Neither kind of delivery is a race run flat against a stopwatch at the expense of care.
We press delivery in batches so a guest can see the slabs cool one at a time. A reasonable turn of the timer takes into account the honest surprises that any real project meets: a locked legacy corner that opens slowly, a cloud that must respect a security wall, or a season when half the world seems to be asking the same question at once. When such a turn arrives, we say so early rather than silently letting the timer run past its mark.
What we promise on the website pages never reaches into a real project unless the work agreement carries it there. The pages are the menu on the wall; the work agreement is the order ticket that actually names the dish. A guest who reads a happy phrase on the home page cannot hold us to it as though it were a clause in a signed batch.
Links to other ovens and third party shelves
The bakehouse may, from time to time, point a guest toward another oven or a shelf that we do not run, such as a service, a writing tool or a helpful neighbour. Such a pointer is a courtesy, not an endorsement of every crumb that house keeps, and we do not hold the door of another shop when it opens.
When you step onto another counter, that house own rules, its own privacy policy and its own manners take over from ours. We cannot answer for the conduct of a shop we do not run, and we advise a guest to read the fine print of any foreign door before handing over a name or a note.
A link that breaks, a shelf that goes stale or a neighbour that changes its ways is not a breach of these terms on our part. We tidy our own pointers when we are told a door has swung shut, and we thank a guest who takes the moment to say that a pointer now points at thin air.
A note on the mail-made slip
Because the order slip composes in your own mail reader, no web form server on this site reaches for your words as you type them. You carry the message in your own hand until you let it fly. That is a deliberate and proud design choice, and it shapes what we can and cannot promise.
When you press the amber button, your mail program takes over. If your mail program is closed or your inbox is missing its shoes, the slip may wait in your own drafts rather than winging to our shelf, and no error of ours is at fault in that quiet waiting. We will gladly help you route it if a slip seems to have gone astray.
A slip that actually lands in our inbox is an ordinary email and is treated with the ordinary care an honest shop gives its mail. It is read by a real person, answered within two working days, and kept no longer than its job needs, all in line with the privacy policy that sits one page over on the same counter.
Limits of what we promise
The bakehouse is offered as is and as available. We provide the pages and the counter with ordinary good care, but we make no grand boast that the shop will never stumble, that every line will be free of a typo forever, or that the site will hold its breath without a flutter through every storm that passes over the roof. These are the honest soft edges of any hand built web stove.
The service notes on this site are descriptions of craft, not a written warranty that every machine touched will rise forever without a cold seam. Guarantees that matter belong in the signed work agreement for a real batch. On the open pages, a reasonable reader will treat a helpful sentence as help, not as a deed of total perfection.
In no case does a single mistake on an open page end the whole bakehouse or let a guest demand the moon for a mote of dust. Where the pages carry a small error, we gladly set it right when it is shown to us, and that quiet mending is the fair extent of what the open counter owes.
Limits of what we owe
To the fullest reach the law allows, we owe no guest, from pure browsing to an order slip to a quiet read of the terms, any loss that grows out of using this website when that loss was not reasonably within our power to prevent. We do not give legal, tax or accounting advice through the pretty prose of a page, and no guest should trade a fortune on a single hopeful paragraph.
Nor are we responsible for what another guest does, for a mail shelf that sways, for a link that leads to a rough house, or for a machine failure well beyond our oven wall. Where the law will not let us narrow our watch, we do not fight the law; we stand only within the borders the law itself names and no further.
If a real engagement is harmed by our own careless hand, the work agreement for that job sets the true ladder of what is owed, and it governs over this page. Our answer should never be read as a blank promise that a project never needs a care, but as the fair and countable honesty one careful baker owes another at a shared counter.
Pausing and ending the arrangement
A quiet guest may close the door at any hour; reading a page is not a lease, and no guest is held against the handle. On the open website, ending the visit simply means stepping away, and nothing is owed on either side beyond the courtesy already paid.
On a real engagement, either side may draw a halt for a real and named reason, in the manner the work agreement describes. When a run is paused or ended, the fair reckoning follows: work actually done and handed over is paid for in the agreed way, and unfinished labour is settled to the honesty of its worth rather than left as a cold, half pressed tray nobody claims.
Ending a batch is not a quarrel, and it should not feel like one. We would far rather part with a guest holding a warm slice and a good word than hold them in a doorway that has grown cold, and we will always help a leaver gather its own keys and its own dough before the door swings shut for the last time.
Law and where the rules are read
These terms are read under the laws that govern the home of this bakehouse. The company is a United States company and keeps its letter box in the State of Utah, and the plain frame of these web page terms takes its law from the United States and the State of Utah, without dragging in the choice of law corners of any other map.
A point of difference that cannot be settled by a calm word across the counter would be heard in the proper courts of that home, subject to the honest rules those courts follow. We would far rather settle over the wood than in a courtroom, and we begin every difference with a fair offer to talk, because the counter was built for exactly that.
The address that frames the whole house is 230 E Wilson Ave, Salt Lake City - 84115-1936, United States (US), and the company name to look for on any title is Stroop Dutch Waffles, LLC. Whatever law or court might one day be asked to read these words, the same plain meaning stands in every room of the house.
The whole house rules
These terms, together with the privacy policy that shares this legal shelf, form the whole of the house rules for the plain reading and use of this website. No promise whispered in an older draft, no sentence from an earlier season of the policy, and no spoken word that never made it onto paper stands over these pages unless it appears here in ink.
If a single clause of these terms should be found hollow by a court or a law, the rest of the house does not tumble with it. The empty brick is lifted out, the wall stays steady, and the remaining clauses keep their full height and their full meaning, one extra turn of care for a reader who feared the whole roof might come down.
No waiver is caught by silence. If one day we do not pounce on a small breach, that easy morning does not give up our right to hold the next breach to the rule the day after. Good neighbours forgive an overspill once, twice or three times without surrendering the house itself.
Other terms that may apply to you
The loose words of a website cannot reach everywhere. A real engagement is wrapped in the fuller terms of its own work agreement, a purchase may carry the terms of the provider of the purchase, and the place where you sit may set its own rules for what your hands may build. Where stronger or sweeter terms apply to you than this page offers, the better terms win for you, never the poorer.
Nothing on this website pushes your own lawful rights under the floor. If the law of your home grants you a shelter or a shield that these words seem to narrow, your town law does not quietly bow out; it keeps its watch, and these words bend to it as any careful tenant would.
Where these terms and another page on the same shelf disagree, the page closest to the job in hand carries the loudest voice. For the reading of the open house the terms up here reign; for a signed chore the work agreement speaks; and for a private matter of your own records, the privacy policy raises its hand.
Questions about the terms
If any line of these terms leaves you cold or confused, do not guess in the dark. Write to mail@xiaofudi.lat and put terms in the subject line so the note reaches the right shelf, or call +16813983817 during the hours named on the contact page. A person who knows what the page means will answer your question, not a machine humming a loop.
Letters in the post find us at Stroop Dutch Waffles, LLC, 230 E Wilson Ave, Salt Lake City - 84115-1936, United States (US). Whether your note arrives by wire or by paper, it is read by a real hand, and it earns the same plain answer the counter always gives.
Thank you for sitting with the whole rule book before you asked for a single tray. That careful reading is the mark of a good neighbour, and the bakehouse is glad to have you standing at its counter. This page was written and tended by StroopWaffle on behalf of Stroop Dutch Waffles, LLC.