These crawls are part of an effort to archive pages as they are created and archive the pages that they refer to. That way, as the pages that are referenced are changed or taken from the web, a link to the version that was live when the page was written will be preserved.Then the Internet Archive hopes that references to these archived pages will be put in place of a link that would be otherwise be broken, or a companion link to allow people to see what was originally intended by a page's authors.The goal is to fix all broken links on the web . Crawls of supported "No More 404" sites. ||||| In the staid, reputation-conscious world of New York fine dining, it's rare for a restaurant to take a swing at The New York Times over a review. 
 
 But that's what happened on Monday when he CEO of Altamarea Group posted a vicious open letter to restaurant critic Pete Wells on the company's website. 
 
 Altamarea is the group behind impossible-to-enter spots like Marea, on New York's Central Park South. 
 
 Earlier this month, Wells wrote a scathing review of its new Upper East Side restaurant, Vaucluse. The group keeps "coming up with new ways to disappoint," he wrote of Altamarea. 
 
 "I am writing you because over the course of time you need to know you are losing credibility and, in a sense, degrading the very institution that gave you the privilege and mandate to be a food critic," Altamarea CEO Ahmass Fakahany wrote in response. 
 
 Wells gave Vaucluse a one-star rating, noting that, "It’s far from a bad restaurant. It’s just not, as my teachers used to say, using its full potential." 
 
 That kind of burn isn't uncommon in the world of restaurant reviews, and, in fact, this specific review was met with a shoulder shrug from industry folk used to Wells' sharp tongue. 
 
 Altamarea, helmed by celebrity chef Michael White, didn't take it so nonchalantly, obviously. 
 
 "The New York Times Dining review section is at its lowest point, and the subject of much industry chatter in this regard. Congratulations. You have managed to do a fantastic job of getting it there," Fakahany, a former Merrill Lynch executive, wrote in his response. 
 
 Altamarea Group counts the most elite of the world's elites amongst its customers. On any given evening you may see Michael Bloomberg chatting in the corner at Vaucluse, or David Geffen hanging at his table at Marea. Service is paramount and reservations are not easy to come by. 
 
 Which means reputation is everything, of course. 
 
 Wells' trade isn't that different. The New York Times dining section is expected to be the pinnacle of knowledge and professionalism — which is likely why Fakahany took a swipe at that too. 
 
 "Please take the time to do the proper job for the reader and the New York Times. Your fact checking questions reveal consistently an embarrassing lack of knowledge and show an absence of a natural food interest of any New York Times food critic to date," Fakahany wrote. 
 
 "It is equally embarrassing for us to write most of the core food section text for you, in response to your emails, to give the reader a false perception of your knowledge." 
 
 And then there's this line. You definitely don't hear this coming out of a dining executive's mouth every day: 
 
 You seem so desperately anxious to be relevant in your time in this post. Is it because you want to develop a personal profile knowing you will never be a Craig Claiborne, Mimi Sheraton, Ruth Reichl, Frank Bruni, or a Florence Fabricant? 
 
 Fakahany closed the letter with a ratings system of his own for Wells: 
 
 Effort/Credibility: 0 stars 
 
 Food Knowledge: 1 star 
 
 Creating Confusion: 4 stars 
 
 Yikes. 
 
 The New York Times did not immediately respond to Business Insider's request for comment. 
 
 Read the full letter below: ||||| A critic could run out of new ways to express disappointment in Altamarea Group restaurants if Altamarea didn’t keep coming up with new ways to disappoint. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Disappointment requires hope, and there are reasons to hope for great things from the latest Altamarea production, Vaucluse. The company, run by the chef Michael White and the finance-and-operations wizard Ahmass Fakahany, has deep pockets and a loyal talent pool to match. 
 
 A server escorting one of my guests to the restroom told her, “Michael White is a great chef and a fantastic human being.” Maybe she was a plant, but Mr. White does have a gift for turning Italian food, especially pasta, into a hedonistic tumble between silk sheets. He also has a talent for finding and keeping skilled cooks like Jared Gadbaw, the executive chef at Marea and at Vaucluse since it opened on East 63rd Street in late summer. 
 
 This is Altamarea’s first French restaurant, another hopeful sign. For the last few years, the group’s new Italian places have been little more than remixes of its old Italian places. Costata was the Altamarea restaurant with extra steak; Ristorante Morini was the one for the northern slopes of the Upper East Side. With Vaucluse, Mr. Gadbaw gets to dig around in a fresh patch of dirt. 
 
 Vaucluse does not try to give us a view of contemporary French cooking the way Rebelle or Racines NY do. Much of the menu lassos the grayest of old gray mares and drags them out for one last trot around the paddock. Some of the mares are revived by the exercise. Others, like the chocolate mousse that has been repeatedly violated by bits of baked cocoa meringue and buried under chocolate ice cream, seem as if they would rather be left alone to live out their retirements in peace. 
 
 Depending on how you order, Vaucluse can be superb, quietly competent or oddly off kilter. The chilled roasted leeks are a virtually perfect appetizer, gorgeously soft and stripped of all raw-onion harshness; as counterpoints, the sprinkle of almonds and the whole-grain mustard vinaigrette, not too pungent, are just right. 
 
 Advertisement Continue reading the main story 
 
 Chicken soup, which we usually save for nights when we need to crawl under the covers, is, at Vaucluse, a reason to get dressed up and go out. Tiny elegant gnocchi bob around in a deeply flavored, lip-smacking velouté; cream is piled on top just in case it’s not rich enough. 
 
 Tournedos Rossini make a glorious comeback in the form of beefy-red roasted veal tenderloin in a truffled veal jus. The veal sits next to an innocent-looking rectangle that turns out to be sliced black truffles between slices of bread crisped in butter. On top of this voluptuous little sandwich is a lobe of seared foie gras. 
 
 Advertisement Continue reading the main story 
 
 The pâté of pork and duck inside a soft pastry crust is impeccably traditional. As far as I know, there is no precedent in French tradition for Vaucluse’s épaulettes, double-barreled ravioli with rabbit confit and Swiss chard loaded into one barrel and reblochon in the other. They will set their own precedent, because they are preposterously good. 
 
 The technical work on all these dishes is impressive, but they come to life because a light bulb went off in somebody’s head. In other regions of the menu, the wattage dims. 
 
 The magnificently simple combination of red wine sauce and a poached egg known as oeuf en meurette has been complicated so much that it’s no fun anymore. The egg is trapped inside a ring of roasted delicata squash, and the sauce has been reduced to a sticky, sharp and slightly too-salty syrup. 
 
 The poulet rôti grand-mère is dull enough to make you wonder if Grandmother learned to roast chickens at a hotel school, although it comes with a profoundly appealing ballotine that’s something like a chicken-and-foie-gras meatball wrapped in skin. 
 
 The potato tart is a jumble of sliced fingerlings, lardons, bits of Camembert and truffles waiting for something to happen. Nothing is going to happen as long as they’re all loafing on a crackerlike crust that you could safely serve to a patient on a no-flavor diet. 
 
 If all you ask of a pork chop is for it to be round, pink and wet, the one at Vaucluse will meet your requirements. 
 
 Many dishes land somewhere between inspired and depleted. At the happier end of that spectrum is the duck à l’orange for two, which features a fine if somewhat over-reduced sauce and a phenomenal cap of evenly golden skin. Why two people need to order a sliced duck breast is a question I can’t answer. How the price was pegged at $92 is another; the huge gratin of turnips and broccoli that is part of the deal doesn’t quite get you to $46 a person. 
 
 The pogo-stick vicissitudes of Vaucluse intensify with the stabs at classic desserts made by Alina Martell in collaboration with Robert Truitt, who oversees pastries at all the Altamarea restaurants. I would have kept sinking my spoon into the dark-chocolate soufflé until it was gone if the other people at the table had let me. It was a pleasure to see the scalloped ring of a Paris-Brest, and it would have been even more of a pleasure to eat if the pastry had been crisper. 
 
 But look out. The caramelized mille-feuille was deeply uninteresting, the buckwheat crust of the mixed-fruit tart rested on a drift of crème fraîche custard as salty as feta, and one night a crème brûlée had been cooked so hard it curdled. It came with a little dish of berries with mint leaves under powdered sugar, the way Belgian waffles are served at an ambitious bed-and-breakfast. 
 
 Advertisement Continue reading the main story 
 
 Advertisement Continue reading the main story 
 
 Seeing the meal crumple at the last course was the most disappointing thing of all, because the desserts I ate at Costata and Ristorante Morini were precisely turned adventures. 
 
 It must be a challenge feeding the trim and carefully dressed people who fill the two handsome, proper dining rooms when so many of the recipes seem to contain the instruction “Fold the butter into the butter.” A dizzying slick of it clung to the egg noodles that came with the boeuf bourguignon and the coq au vin, each very well made and rich enough on its own. 
 
 Perhaps to make things up to us, we were asked if we would like the trout Grenobloise served with the brown butter — the whole point of the dish — on the side. 
 
 Vaucluse is comfortable and reassuring enough that it will almost certainly find an audience on the Upper East Side. It’s far from a bad restaurant. It’s just not, as my teachers used to say, using its full potential.
– No one wants his restaurant getting trashed by the New York Times. But Altamarea Group CEO Ahmass Fakahany wasn't about to hide when his new French eatery Vaucluse received a mediocre review by critic Pete Wells last week. "A critic could run out of new ways to express disappointment in Altamarea Group restaurants if Altamarea didn't keep coming up with new ways to disappoint," is how Wells started off his critique of the Upper East Side restaurant, anchored by celeb chef Michael White. The disses didn't let up there. "It's far from a bad restaurant," Wells wrote, bestowing a one-star rating. "It's just not, as my teachers used to say, using its full potential." Wells issued his share of disparagement—a la "chocolate mousse that has been repeatedly violated by bits of baked cocoa meringue"—but adjectives such as "superb" and "virtually perfect" also find their way in. No matter, as none of it sat well with Fakahany, who prides himself on establishments that Business Insider points out are frequented by the likes of Michael Bloomberg and David Geffen. "The New York Times Dining review section is at its lowest point, and the subject of much industry chatter in this regard. Congratulations. You have managed to do a fantastic job of getting it there," Fakahany writes. He chastises Wells for his "embarrassing lack of knowledge," as well as "an absence of a natural food interest." Then there's Wells' ranking among esteemed food reviewers: "You seem so desperately anxious to be relevant ... Is it because you want to develop a personal profile knowing you will never be a Craig Claiborne, Mimi Sheraton, Ruth Reichl, Frank Bruni, or a Florence Fabricant?" Yikes. (Meanwhile, restaurant reservations might be on the way out.)