It wasn't really a restaurant. It had no set menu, the dining area amounted to a few tables hastily thrown together from planks of wood, the stallion running the place was the only one working there, and half the time you might not even get a plate to eat on. It was more like a place that happened to serve whatever food happened to be prepared that day, at whatever time it happened to be prepared at, all run by the same pony who happened to cook that food. But inspectors had come, they'd checked and verified that the kitchen was clean and the food was properly stored, and so the place stayed open and kept serving whoever happened to pass by.
And that was a good thing. Because that one pony made some darn good food.
They'd never learnt his name, and he'd never learnt theirs. Neither had ever asked. They'd shown up there, one day, soaking wet while a thunderstorm raged outside. Asked for food, no matter what it was. And, darn it, it'd been the best food they'd ever had.
They kept showing up, whenever they could. Whenever they could afford to pass from there, and the place happened to be open. Didn't even need to ask for anything anymore at that point. They just sat down, and a bowl of whatever was being served that day got to their table. Eat, leave the bits behind, wave goodbye as they walked out the door.
Sometimes, there was stuff to drink, too. There was a water pump outside the building, clean stuff, connected right to an underground spring there in the mountains, but sometimes there was something else too. Usually served in the same old glass stein, the bottom so worn out from use and polishing sessions it would have been a hole if it hadn't been so thick. Always nice stuff. Cider, or grape juice, or pomegranate juice, or a bunch of other things. They had no idea how he got his hooves on any of it, and they didn't care.
Not like the food was any more consistent or less headscratch inducing. They were pretty sure half the plants served there didn't even grow in that side of Equestria, much less high in the mountains like that. Maybe the place just had the world's weirdest storage hidden underneath, and he just fetched stuff at random.
The building was old, mossy, the many stones that made up the walls misaligned and sticking out, the roof's cover planks looked like they were just waiting for the first hailstorm to break apart. Inside, though, it all disappeared. The fireplace cast its warmth and glow over huge, rough but solid chunks of stone that made up the walls and floor, and the ceiling's wooden support beams looked like they'd been bought just the other day.
They always enjoyed eating there. Especially after a rough day, especially when it was raining outside. And then, just like every time, they left their bits on the table, the bowl or plate or whatever cleaned from every last speck of food, and they walked out by themself, once more alone for a while in the outside world.