DP's a kitschy, Atomic-Age-styled Valhalla for waistline warriors, letting customers nail down the specifics of their sugar-loaded gut-bombs, then either take their creations to go, or consume them surrounded by paintings fattily rendered by the owner's sister-in-law, e.g., "American Gothic" with a cupcake jammed on the pitchfork, or a pie slice floating UFO-like over Mt Rushmore (speak softly, carry a big fork).