
Samba Steakhouse is a Brazilian steakhouse that offers an unforgettable culinary experience for meat lovers. Indulge in a wide selection of premium cuts of beef, expertly seasoned and grilled to perfection by skilled chefs. From juicy ribeye and tender filet mignon to flavorful sirloin and succulent picanha, Samba Steakhouse takes pride in serving top-quality meats that will satisfy even the most discerning palates.
Hours
| Sunday | 4–8 PM |
| Monday | Closed |
| Tuesday | 5–9 PM |
| Wednesday | 5–9 PM |
| Thursday | 5–9 PM |
| Friday | 5–9 PM |
| Saturday | 5–9 PM |
Address and Contact Information
Address: 5690 Cumming Hwy NE, Sugar Hill, GA 30518
Phone: (678) 541-5277
Website: https://www.sambasteakhouse.net/
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Reviews
From the moment I arrived, the service was kind, attentive, and truly welcoming.
The food was delicious and authentic — exactly the taste of Brazil.
O buffet estava impecável: feijão preto saboroso, arroz soltinho, saladas frescas e aquele pão de queijo perfeito. Tudo muito bem preparado e apresentado.
The drinks were also great — I loved being able to enjoy a cold Brahma, just like in Brazil.
And the dessert? Amazing! The warm pineapple with cinnamon, chocolate drizzle and ice cream was the perfect way to finish the meal. Beautiful presentation and even better taste.
The atmosphere is cozy, clean, and family-friendly. It really feels like a little trip to Brazil without leaving town.
Highly recommended!
A wonderful experience from start to finish. I’ll definitely be coming back!
The so-called “service” operated with an almost avant-garde commitment to absence. The waitstaff appeared to subscribe to a philosophy of strategic invisibility, materializing only sporadically and never with the one item ostensibly central to a steakhouse experience: food. Plates remained barren landscapes, our table a monument to unrealized expectations. One might assume that in a churrascaria-style establishment, attentive circulation of skewered meats would be axiomatic. Instead, the servers treated our presence as an inconvenient abstraction.
Requests were met not with urgency, nor even with perfunctory acknowledgment, but with a kind of languid indifference that bordered on performance art. Time stretched into a Kafkaesque absurdity as we waited—hungry, bewildered, and increasingly incredulous. For a Valentine’s Day dinner, an occasion predicated on ambiance and care, the evening felt astonishingly impersonal and disorganized.
In short, the experience at Samba Steakhouse was an exercise in operational ineptitude and romantic sabotage. What should have been a celebratory evening was irreparably diminished by inattentive staff, nonexistent food rotation, and a pervasive atmosphere of managerial oblivion. I cannot recommend this establishment to anyone who values efficiency, competence, or the basic expectation of being served at a restaurant.