You know what? A good slicer can make or break a rush. I learned that the hard way on a packed Saturday. I was running a small sandwich shop, with stacks of ham, roast beef, and a line that did not stop. My main tool: a Hobart 2612 slicer. Big blade. Heavy body. A bit bossy, to be honest.
I recorded the play-by-play of that baptism-by-fire in a longer field diary—take a look at the full deli-counter chronicle over on Hats of Meat.
The one I used, and where
We had a Hobart 2612 on our counter. It’s a manual slicer with a 12-inch blade. It’s not cute. It’s a tank. I also did a few weeks on a Globe G12 in a food truck. Same idea, lighter feel. I liked the Hobart more for big jobs, but I’ll admit the Globe was easier to move.
For a deeper dive into how different slicer models stack up in real-world kitchens, swing by the comparison charts on Hats of Meat.
Day one: thick ham, then paper-thin
My first shift on the Hobart, I sliced a full log of smoked ham. Then I set the dial half a notch at a time, till I hit that nice deli thin. You could read the label through it. We used that for pressed Cubans. For the roast beef, I went a touch thicker, so it didn’t fall apart. For provolone, super thin so it draped like a ribbon. That little dial became my best friend. One click changed the whole feel of a sandwich.
There’s a sweet spot for salami. Too thin, it tears. Too thick, it chews like a tire. I found it after two tries and a deep sigh. Customers noticed. They always do.
If the science of salami thickness fascinates you too, dive into my slice-by-slice tasting notes in this in-depth review: Salami and Me.
Power and speed — but also control
This thing didn’t stall. Even on cold, dense turkey breast. The carriage glided. If I kept the blade sharp (and I did), it sliced clean with no chatter lines. I could push out piles fast. I once cut 30 pounds of ham in under 20 minutes for a church lunch. My shoulder felt it, but the slicer didn’t.
Here’s the thing: speed is nice. But control is better. If I rushed the pass, I got ridges. Slow and steady, I got smooth sheets. That’s the trick. Let the blade work. Your hands guide. Don’t force it. When I needed to fine-tune carriage tension or diagnose a wobble, I cracked open the detailed factory service manual, and those exploded-view diagrams saved the day.
Noise and size
It hummed, not screamed. You could talk over it, but you still knew it was on. The machine weighed about as much as a big kid. It didn’t slide. It didn’t bounce. That mattered when the counter got wet. Rubber feet kept it steady.
Would I put this on a home counter? No. It’s too big. For a deli, café, or truck kitchen, yes. It fits, but you’ll give up some space.
If you want to see what it’s actually like to keep a smaller slicer in a regular kitchen, check out my week-long home trial here: My Kitchen, My Deli.
Safety talk (from a person who got cocky once)
I wore a cut glove on my off hand. The guard helped, but the glove saved my knuckle one morning when a heel of cheddar got slick. I was wiping down the blade and got lazy. That tiny sting? It scared me straight. Now I move slow around the blade and never reach under the guard.
The kill switch is big and red. Use it. If anything feels off, stop. Clear the meat. Turn it off. Then breathe.
Cleaning — the real part no one loves
I won’t lie. Cleaning is the chore. But a clean slicer makes better food, and it keeps folks safe.
My routine:
- I unplugged it.
- I brushed off crumbs and meat bits.
- I slid off the carriage and food tray.
- I wiped the blade with hot, soapy water using a long handle pad. Always from the center out.
- I rinsed and sprayed on sanitizer.
- I air dried parts on a rack, then reassembled.
On a normal day, it took me 12 to 15 minutes. If you want the factory’s exact procedure, the official Hobart operator’s manual spells it all out in diagrams and safety callouts. After slicing raw bacon (rare for us), I did a full reset before touching cheese or turkey. That cross-contact risk is real. And by the way, a dull blade makes more mess and more time. Sharpen often. The Hobart’s built-in sharpener did fine, but I still sent the blade out once a year.
What I loved
- Consistent cuts: The thickness dial was steady. No weird drift.
- Strong motor: No stalls on big blocks or cold starts.
- Easy glide: The carriage slid smooth, even after a long morning.
- Built like a brick: It felt safe and solid. Less wobble, more trust.
What bugged me
- Weight: Moving it for deep clean days was a two-person job.
- Blade guard latch: On ours, it sometimes stuck. I had to wiggle it. Not fun with gloves on.
- Cheese smear: Warm cheddar smeared unless I cooled the block or paused. Not a deal breaker, but I had to plan for it.
- Training curve: New staff wanted to push too fast. We lost a few slices till they got the feel.
Real shifts where it mattered
- Holiday trays: I sliced 12 pounds of salami and capicola to near translucent. The edge stayed clean. No ragged fat. The tray looked pro.
- Lunch rush: Two of us worked the same slicer, back to back. Ham, turkey, provolone, back to ham. We wiped between proteins. No flavor bleed.
- Food truck night: The Globe G12 held up, but the Hobart is the one I’d choose for a big crowd. Less chatter. Fewer jams.
Who should buy this kind of slicer
- Busy deli or café: You’ll use it all day. It can keep up.
- Caterers: For party trays and even veggie slicing (zucchini chips, yes).
- Food trucks: If you have the space and power, it helps prep go fast.
If you’re just making sandwiches at home, get a smaller unit. This is more machine than you need.
Quick tips I wish I knew sooner
- Chill your meat and cheese. Cold product slices cleaner.
- Don’t skip the heel pusher. It keeps fingers safe and pressure even.
- Give the blade a quick wipe after cheese. It stops smear on the next pass.
- Sharpen before a big job, not after.
- Label the dial settings you like. A tiny piece of tape saved me time.
Little quirks that grew on me
The hum became a rhythm. The click of the dial felt like a metronome. I knew when the blade was right by the sound and the curl of the slice. That’s nerdy, I know. But it made my day smoother.
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Final take
I trust the Hobart 2612 for real work. It’s strong, steady, and clean when you treat it right. It’s not perfect, and it’s not light. But it turned piles of meat and cheese into neat stacks, fast, with the kind of pride you can taste.
Would I buy one again for a busy shop? Yes. Would I lug it into my home kitchen? Not a chance. But for a deli line, this thing earns its space, slice after slice.