“They call me ‘la troia’ as if it were an insult. But look around. Who lives here day and night? Who eats the scraps they throw away and turns them into warmth? I have seen their lovers argue under the fig tree. I have smelled the lies on the postman’s shoes. I have heard the girl cry when her cat died.
If you encountered this in a culinary or social setting, it might be a confused reference to Nero di Troia